FREDERICK 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL 


BY 

JOSEPH    HATTON 

AUTHOR    OF    "CLYTIE,"    "  CRUEL  LONDON,"    "  QUEEN  OF  BOHEMIA, 
"  THREE  RECRUITS,"  "  THE  GREAT  WORLD,"    "  MY  ENEMY'S 
DAUGHTER."  "  BY  ORDER  OF  THE  CZAR,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

CASSELL   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

104  &  106  FOURTH  AVENUE 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  BELLE  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT,  i 

II.  AFTER  THE  FISHING  FLEET  HAD  SAILED,         .        .  9 

III.  AROUND  A  WINTER  FIRE, ig 

IV.  "To  YOUR  TENTS,  O  ISRAEL!"       ....  25 
V.  COUNCILS  OF  PEACE  AND  WAR, 34 

VI.  FOR  THE  SAKE  OF  THE  WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN,       .  39 

VII.  TREACHERY, 46 

VIII.  WOMAN'S  INSTINCT, 49 

IX.  A  CRUEL  CONSPIRACY, 58 

X.  PAT  DOOLAN  TO  THE  RESCUE,           ....  63 

XI.  MUTINY,          .........  72 

XII.  How  THE  KING'S  MEN  MADE  REBELS,     ...  77 

XIII.  IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  FOREST  PRIMEVAL,        .        .  88 

XIV.  A  PRISONER,  AND  IN  IRONS,       .        .        .        .        ,    .  95 
XV.  SIGNALS  OF  FRIENDSHIP  AND  DANGER,          .        .        .  105 

XVI.  BOWERS  THE  SILENT  DELIVERS  HIS  MESSAGE,          .  114 
XVII.  GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  GODS  OF  HEART'S 

DELIGHT,         ........  119 

XVIII.  THE  TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH,        .        .        .  132 

XIX.  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  WILDERNESS  CREEK,          .        .  145 

XX.  ONE  FRIEND  AND  MANY  FOES, 151 

XXI.  GHOSTS  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT,           ....  161 

XXII.  DAVID'S  SWEETHEART, 169 

XXIII.  DAVID  TELLS  ELMIRA  OF  HIS  MISSION  TO  NEWFOUND- 

LAND,             182 

XXIV.  "'TWAS  DOWN  IN  CUPID'S  GARDEN,"       .        .        .  187 


'V  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGfi 

XXV.  "BREAKERS  AHEAD!" 196 

XXVI.  MILDRED  HOPE, 210 

XXVII.  DAVID  KEITH  AT  HOME  IN  HARTLEY'S  Row,         .  217 

XXVIII.  "THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF  VENICE,"        .        .  227 

XXIX.  A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS, 240 

XXX.  BAD  OMENS  FOR  THE  "  MORNING  STAR,"    .        .  252 
XXXI.  "WAS    LOST  AND  is  FOUND;  WAS   DEAD   AND   is 

ALIVE  AGAIN," 259 

XXXII.  "ALWAYS  TO-MORROW," 273 

XXXIII.  THE  BLISS  OF  LOOKING  FORWARD,      ...  281 

XXXIV.  THE  RAKE'S  PROGRESS, 287 

XXXV.  HE  CALLED  IT  LOVE, 294 

XXXVI.  HARRY  BARKSTEAD'S  LATEST  CONQUEST,         .        .  305 

XXXVII.  THE  COUNTRY  BEAUTY  IN  TOWN,       .        .        .  318 

XXXVIII.  "  SIR,  You  ARE  A  BLACK-HEARTED  SCOUNDREL,"   .  322 

XXXIX.  A  WRECK  ASHORE,       ......  328 

XL.  A  SURPRISE  FOR  HARTLEY'S  Row,  ....  334 

XLI.  DAVID    KEITH    AND    HARRY    BARKSTEAD     MEET 

AGAIN,            340 

XLII.  THE  WATCHMAN'S  LANTERN,        ....  347 

XLI  1 1.  THROUGH  THE  VALLEY, 353 

XLIV.  A  BAD  DREAM  WITH  A  LOVELY  IMAGE  IN  IT,     .  360 

XLV.  THE  PATIENCE  OF  ZACCHEUS  WEBB,        .        .        ..  366 

XLVI.  ALL  ON  A  SUMMER'S  DAY, 376 

XLVII.  THE  BURIED  TREASURE, 380 

XLVIII.  DAVID'S  WIFE 394 

XLIX.  A  HAPPY  FAMILY, 401 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL 


PART    I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    BELLE    OF    HEART'S    DELIGHT. 

As  the  stony  wilderness  of  some  barren  strand  is  unex- 
pectedly decorated  with  a  flower,  so  did  Hannah  Plympton 
dawn  upon  the  uncouth  community  of  Heart's  Delight.  A 
blush  rose  from  the  stock  of  a  Devonshire  garden,  she 
adorned  the  waste  of  a  Newfoundland  settlement  in  the 
youngest  days  of  the  oldest  British  Colony. 

Newfoundland  had  secret  ties  for  some  of  the  early 
settlers.  Alan  Keith  was  held  there  by  his  love  for  Han- 
nah Plympton.  That  was  his  secret.  Season  after  season, 
when  he  should  have  gone  home  with  the  fishing  fleet,  he 
lingered  on  the  shores  of  Heart's  Delight.  Father,  friends, 
home,  religion,  all  were  sacrificed  to  Hannah  Plympton, 
and  yet  he  had  made  no  confession  of  his  love.  Hannah 
was  not  only  the  belle  of  Heart's  Delight,  she  was  its  good 
angel,  and,  while  ambitious  to  win  her  for  his  wife,  Alan 
could  only  regard  his  desire  as  rash  and  presumptuous.  It 
should  be  the  reward  of  some  gallant  cavalier,  or  mighty 
sea  captain  who  had  fought  a  great  battle,  to  gather  the 
blush  rose  of  Heart's  Delight.  And  if  such  a  hero  had 
appeared  Alan  would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  to 
wager  his  life  against  him  for  the  prize. 


2  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

Furthermore,  Hannah  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  the 
daughter  of  the  little  community.  She  had  a  father  who 
was  looked  upon  as  the  founder  and  master  of  the  settle- 
ment, but  she  was  everybody's  friend  and  neighbor.  Her 
mother  had  died  when  Hannah  was  an  infant.  David 
Plympton,  her  father,  had  brought  her  from  St.  John's  to 
the  smaller  settlement  in  the  first  days  of  her  girlhood. 
He  had  inherited  certain  territorial  rights  in  the  natural 
harbor  of  Heart's  Delight.  The  people  had  gathered  round 
him,  and  the  girl  had  grown  up  with  the  colony.  She  was 
an  example  of  the  heredity  of  English  beauty,  and  a  type 
of  its  nobility.  The  men  of  Heart's  Delight  felt  the  better 
for  her  ingenuous  smile.  The  women  were  proud  of  her 
beauty.  It  made  the  men  shy.  They  revered  it;  all  of 
them  except  one.  He  was  the  shadow  on  her  life,  and  she 
knew  it  not. 

To  dwell  upon  the  beauty  of  Hannah  is  not  necessarily 
to  discount  the  comeliness  of  the  other  women  of  the 
colony.  They  had  come  from  all  parts  of  the  old  country, 
companions  of  adventurous  men.  Some  of  them  were  ill- 
favored,  others  brought  pleasant  faces,  and  all  of  them 
courageous  hearts  to  the  planting  of  the  young  colony. 
Hannah  Plympton's  manners  were  just  as  frank  and  free 
as  theirs.  There  were  no  society  airs  at  Heart's  Delight, 
no  assertion  of  caste,  no  assumption  of  superiority;  all  were 
equal  in  the  unwritten  laws  of  the  place,  except  in  so  far  as 
a  masterful  individuality  marked  this  man,  or  a  natural 
grace  this  woman,  and  these  are  factors  of  influence  in  all 
communities,  whatever  the  dispensation  under  which  they 
live.  Hannah  and  her  father  held  the  foremost  rank,  not 
alone  by  reason  of  acknowledged  rights — the  father's  prop- 
erty and  the  daughter's  beauty;  they  were  born  with  less 
limitations,  physical  and  intellectual,  than  their  neighbors, 
and  the  community  unconsciously  recognized  the  fact. 

The  superiority  of  Hannah  was  conceded  without  any 


THE  BELLE  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT.  3 

assumption  of  it  on  her  part.  She  lived  the  life  of  the 
other  women.  She  did  not  shrink  from  physical  labor. 
She  did  her  share  of  domestic  work.  She  helped  to  bake 
and  brew,  and  took  a  hand  at  braiding  nets.  Yet  her  hands 
were  white  and  her  complexion,  not  counting  a  freckle  here 
and  there,  bore  the  heat  and  brunt  of  the  day  without  losing 
its  freshness  and  a  certain  delicacy  of  tint  that  is  supposed 
to  belong,  almost  exclusively,  to  ladies  of  the  highest  rank. 
There  are  women  who  never  lose  the  distinctive  beauty  of  a 
rich  and  fair  complexion,  give  them  the  labor  of  the 
kitchen,  the  factory,  or  the  field;  just  as  the  rose  will 
blossom  fresh  and  fair  and  sweet  in  the  humblest  envi- 
ronment. 

The  Plymptons  hailed  from  Devonshire.  Alan  Keith 
came  from  Perth.  David  was  the  oldest  colonist,  Alan  the 
youngest.  Alan  was  a  bright,  clever  fellow,  of  fine  build, 
with  long  swinging  arms,  and  great  powerful  hands.  Awk- 
ward perhaps,  as  tall,  strong  men  often  are,  but  wonder- 
fully handy;  a  famous  sailor,  with  a  big  genial  laugh; 
tender-hearted,  but  hot  in  temper;  bared  his  throat  to  the 
weather  even  in  winter;  wore  long,  heavy  boots,  a  rough 
jerkin  and  belt,  with  a  slouch  hat,  and  a  blue  neckerchief 
that  had  long,  flying  ends,  like  the  streamers  of  a  ship. 
David  Plympton  was  the  master  of  the  village.  The  settle- 
ment needed  a  guiding  hand;  David's  was  the  strongest. 
It  wielded  an  unquestioned  authority.  He  had  no  official 
power,  none  in  the  least.  They  were  a  free  and  independ- 
ent community  when  the  Fishing  Admirals  had  sailed  away 
after  every  year's  harvest  of  the  sea ;  too  free,  too  inde- 
pendent, for  then  every  man  was  as  good  as  another. 
They  had  no  covenant,  no  police,  and  no  laws  for  police  to 
enforce.  England  knew  them  not  out  of  the  fishing  season, 
and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  David  Plympton  ruled  in  Heart's 
Delight. 

Brood  in  secret  as  he  might  over  a  love  too  deep  for 


4  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

words,  Hannah  knew  of  it.  Trust  a  woman,  however 
unsophisticated,  to  discover  the  passion  of  the  most  secre- 
tive and  constrained  of  lovers.  But  Hannah  did  not  know 
that  this  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight;  that  Alan  on  his  first 
trip  to  Newfoundland,  three  years  previously,  had  bribed  his 
captain  to  leave  him  at  the  fisheries,  and  all  for  love  of  her. 
Alan  was  no  ordinary  fisherman.  He  had  prospects  and 
expectations  in  Perth.  He  could  have  been  a  master  him- 
self, if  he  had  chosen  to  go  home.  He  had  been  well 
trained  so  far  as  the  sea  was  concerned.  A  clever  mariner, 
he  was  also  a  keen  and  successful  fisherman.  Hannah 
delighted  to»hear  Alan  talk  with  his  pleasant  Scotch  accent, 
and  he  was  fascinated  with  her  soft,  sweet  voice.  Both 
Plympton  and  his  daughter  spoke  with  something  of  the 
dialect  of  Drake  and  Frobisher;  and  Plympton  gloried  in 
this  reminiscence  of  his  native  county. 

Alan  had  built  himself  a  hut  not  far  from  the  Great  House 
where  Plympton  lived,  and  he  would  sit  on  summer  nights 
smoking  and  watching  Hannah's  window  until  the  light 
went  out,  dreaming  all  kinds  of  schemes  for  approaching 
what  always  seemed  to  him  the  impossibility  upon  which 
his  heart  was  set.  On  her  side  Hannah  encouraged  the 
praises  showered  upon  Alan  by  Sally  Mumford,  her  one 
single  domestic,  who  with  Patrick  Doolan  shared  with  her 
the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  the  Great  House — the 
fishing  stage,  and  the  fish  flakes,  not  to  mention  the  garden 
patch  that  belonged  to  the  Plympton  domain. 

It  was  in  the  days  of  the  third  George  of  England  when 
the  personal  history  of  our  story  begins.  They  were  turbu- 
lent times.  Indeed  the  times  had  been  turbulent  for  many 
a  long  year.  Looking  back  with  the  guide  of  a  systema- 
tized history,  England  seemed  to  be  doing  little  else  than 
fight  and  make  peace,  and  fight  and  make  peace  again. 
Treaties  of  amity  and  declarations  of  war  followed  at  inter- 
vals in  regular  succession.  Our  foes  only  made  peace 


THE  BELLE  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT.  $ 

when  they  could  fight  no  longer ;  to  break  their  treaties  as 
soon  as  they  had  made  fresh  alliances  and  deemed  them- 
selves strong  once  more,  or  the  English  sufficiently  weak 
for  attack. 

So  far  the  history  of  the  past;  so  far  the  history  of  the 
time  when  Alan  Keith  pondered  over  his  daring  venture  of 
proposing  to  Master  Plympton  for  the  hand  of  his  daughter 
Hannah. 

The  scene  was  the  little  fishing  village  of  Heart's  Delight, 
not  many  miles  from  St..  John's,  Newfoundland,  with  its 
rough  stages  and  fish  flakes  for  drying  cod  and  its  few  scat- 
tered homes  and  bits  of  garden. 

At  one  time  this  seed  of  a  colony  had  promised  to  flour- 
ish. It  was  almost  the  first  settlement  that  had  been 
permitted  to  exist  under  the  rights  and  privileges  granted 
to  the  first  pioneer;  but  in  the  days  of  David  Plympton, 
Newfoundland  was  subject  to  a  systematic  persecution, 
which,  in  the  light  of  the  present  time,  seems  as  strange  and 
unnatural  as  it  was  short-sighted  and  cruel. 

When  the  first  pioneer,  Sir  David  Kirke,  was  restored  to 
the  rights  given  and  taken  back  and  finally  re-endowed  by 
Cromwell,  the  entire  island  of  Newfoundland  contained  a 
population  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  families,  or  about  two 
thousand  inhabitants,  scattered  in  fifteen  small  settlements, 
one  of  which  Plympton's  father,  an  original  settler,  had 
called  Heart's  Delight.  They  were  the  resident  community. 

Besides  these,  there  was  a  floating  population  of  several 
thousands,  who  arrived  in  summer  to  fish,  and  left  with  the 
autumn.  Hundreds  of  vessels  from  England,  and  many 
from  France,  anchored  at  the  fisheries  and  salted  their  takes 
ashore.  As  far  as  the  English  were  concerned,  the  fish- 
eries were  carried  on  by  merchants  and  shipowners  and 
traders  from  the  West  of  England.  They  were  hostile  to 
the  settlers,  regarding  them  as  interlopers.  They  claimed  the 
harbors  and  coves  for  the  use  of  their  servants  while  engaged 


6  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

in  curing  fish.  So  great  did  their  influence  become  that  they 
induced  the  home  government  to  make  repressive  laws,  by 
which  the  act  of  planting  became  illegal,  and  the  island  was 
administered  periodically  as  a  training  ground  for  the  navy. 

Settlement  of  any  kind  was  prohibited  within  six  miles  of 
the  shore,  and  this  was  intended  to  apply  to  the  existing 
residents,  any  others  being  forbidden  to  proceed  to  the 
country  for  the  purposes  of  colonization.  All  fishermen 
were  commanded  at  the  close  of  each  season  to  return  to 
England.  Masters  of  vessels  were  bound  in  money  fines  of 
a  serious  amount  to  carry  back  to  the  old  country  such 
persons  as  they  took  out,  and  all  plantations  in  Newfound- 
land were  rigorously  discouraged. 

A  hundred  years  ago  the  governor  for  the  time  being 
sharply  rebuked  a  sheriff  for  having,  during  his  absence, 
permitted  a  resident  to  erect  a  fence;  ordered  certain  sheds 
or  huts,  erected  as  shelters,  to  be  removed;  and  prohibited 
the  erection  of  chimneys  to  other  huts,  or  even  the  lighting 
of  fires  therein  under  any  pretense  whatever.  It  was 
enacted  that  the  master  of  the  first  ship  arriving  at  the 
fisheries  from  England  should  be  admiral  in  the  harbor 
where  he  cast  anchor,  the  masters  of  the  second  and  third 
to  be  vice  admiral  and  rear  admiral.  The  first  had  the 
privilege  of  reserving  as  much  of  the  beach  as  he  required 
for  his  own  use.  These  men,  servants  of  the  capitalists,  or 
owners  of  ships  themselves,  had  a  direct  interest  in  ques- 
tions of  property  and  other  social  and  political  matters  that 
came  before  them  in  their  magisterial  capacities.  They 
dispensed  what  they  called  justice  on  the  decks  of  their 
vessels.  Disputes,  arising  between  the  inhabitants  and  the 
migratory  fishing  folks,  were  adjudicated  by  the  fishing 
admirals.  In  the  eyes  of  these  judges  the  highest  offense  a 
man  could  be  guilty  of  was  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  or  the 
building  of  a  house.  They  took,  without  hesitation,  such 
buildings  for  their  own  use  or  destroyed  them,  and  com- 


THE  BELLE  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT.  7 

mitted  all  kinds  of  excesses  against  the  person  as  well  as 
against  property. 

In  the  autumn  they  sailed  away  with  all  their  crews  and 
servants,  leaving  the  settlements  without  even  a  semblance 
of  law  or  order ;  some  of  them  in  a  state  of  anarchy  and  a 
prey  to  lawless  adventurers,  others,  however,  blessed  with 
good  strong  men  capable  of  leading  their  fellows  and  main- 
taining order.  Of  such  were  Alan  Keith  and  Master  David 
Plympton  of  Heart's  Delight;  Keith,  a  young  Scotch 
mariner  and  fisherman;  Plympton,  one  of  the  few  who  had 
been  secured  in  his  rights  through  his  father  from  Sir  David 
Kirke,  to  whom  Newfoundland  was  a  royal  grant  for 
services  to  his  country  on  land  and  sea.  But  such  had 
been  the  excesses  of  the  Fishing  Admirals,  and  such  the 
neglect  of  the  high  authorities  at  home,  that  Plympton 
began  to  fear  for  his  inheritance,  and  to  think  of  leaving 
the  island  with  such  possessions  as  he  could  carry,  in  bonds 
and  notes  and  receipts  for  bank  deposits  in  England. 

Moreover,  Newfoundland,  besides  the  disabilities  which 
she  suffered  by  reason  of  the  Fishing  Admirals,  had  latterly 
more  than  usually  labored  under  the  disadvantages  of  her 
position  as  a  more  or  less  unprotected  settlement,  lying  at 
the  mercy  of  French  cruisers  and  American  privateers. 
Troubles  with  America  had  stopped  the  Newfoundland 
supplies  from  New  England;  and  there  was  no  knowing 
what  would  be  the  result  of  the  latest  conflict.  Plympton 
was  pessimistic  in  his  views.  This  arose  chiefly  out  of 
anxiety  for  his  daughter,  who,  in  an  uncomfortable  way, 
and  to  her  sorrow,  had  been  subjected  to  the  rough  admira- 
tion of  such  unexpected  and  powerful  visitors  as  occasion- 
ally put  into  Heart's  Delight — only  recently  a  daring 
company  of  officers  and  men  from  a  Salem  warship,  and  on 
another  occasion  the  master  of  an  armed  Frenchman,  more 
like  a  pirate  than  a  legitimate  vessel  of  war. 

It  did  not  always  happen  that  there  were  English  cruisers 
off  Newfoundland  to  protect  the  inhabitants,  and,  indeed, 


8  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

so  bitterly  opposed  were  the  government  to  the  settlement, 
except  for  the  uses  of  the  fishery  and  the  training  of  sailors 
for  the  fleet,  that  it  is  probable  that  Heart's  Delight  was 
hardly  known  to  the  English  cruisers,  or  if  it  was,  they 
would  have  no  special  instructions  as  to  the  insignificant 
interests  of  such  a  lawless  plantation. 

Watching  Hannah  grow  to  womanhood,  and  feeling  that 
any  day  the  control  of  Heart's  Delight  might  fall  away 
from  him,  and  that  Hannah  might  be  a  source  of  some 
trouble  which  he  could  not  define,  the  master  began  to  long 
for  rest  and  security.  Already,  without  having  told  anyone 
of  the  circumstance,  he  had  had  a  serious  altercation  with 
one  Lester  Bentz,  who  had  recently  established  a  fishing 
station  at  Heart's  Delight  with  the  governor's  permission. 
Lester  Bentz  was  supposed  to  be  a  dissenter  of  the  acute 
type,  a  Puritan  of  pronounced  views.  He  had  taken  excep- 
tion to  the  local  influence  of  Father  Lavello,  and,  remon- 
strated with  by  Plympton,  had  followed  him  home,  and  on 
the  threshold  of  the  Great  House  had  offered  him  a  com- 
promise. "Give  me  thy  daughter  Hannah,"  he  had  said, 
"and  I  will  be  neuter.  I  don't  say  that  I  would  not  even 
join  thy  Church;  so  deep  is  my  love  for  the  maiden,  so 
powerfully  hath  she  ensnared  my  heart!" 

"Promise  me,"  Plympton  had  said,  taking  Bentz  by  the 
throat,  "that  you  will  never  dare  to  say  a  word  of  this  to 
my  daughter;  that  you  will  never  dare  so  much  as  to  look 
at  her;  or  by  the  Church  you  insult  I  will  bait  the  wolf-traps 
with  your  wretched  carcass!" 

Lester  Bentz  had  promised  and  kept  his  vow;  but  he 
hoped  for  an  opportunity  to  be  revenged  on  both  Plympton 
and  his  daughter. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  by  the  most  casual  reader  of 
this  opening  chapter  of  a  romantic  and  tragic  history,  that 
the  time  was  in  every  respect  favorable  for  Alan  Keith  to 
disclose  the  secret  of  his  love  for  the  belle  of  Heart's 
Delight. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AFTER    THE    FISHING    FLEET    HAD   SAILED. 

ON  a  fine  autumn  evening,  at  the  close  of  the  fisheries, 
when  the  last  ship  had  raised  her  anchor  and  sailed  away, 
Alan  Keith  and  Master  Plympton  sat  in  the  porch  of  what 
was  called  the  Great  House,  in  the  pleasant  harbor  of 
Heart's  Delight. 

The  title  of  the  Plympton  home  was,  however,  the  great- 
est thing  about  it.  Greatness  is  a  matter  of  comparison. 
By  comparison  with  the  other  dwellings  of  Heart's  Delight, 
Plympton's,  it  is  true,  was  quite  a  mansion.  For  all  that, 
compared  with  what  we  in  England  regard  as  a  great  house, 
it  was  no  better  than  a  hut.  It  was  a  sort  of  log  bungalow, 
a  pioneer's  abode,  on  the  frontiers  of  civilization.  It  had 
no  upper  story,  but  consisted  of  a  series  of  chambers,  with 
one  general  living  room,  that  was  kitchen  and  drawing 
room  in  one.  It  was  better  furnished  than  might  have  been 
expected.  On  one  side  of  the  room  there  was  a  great  old 
dresser  from  Devonshire;  on  the  other  a  dower-chest  full  of 
linen  that  had  belonged  to  Hannah's  grandmother.  It  had 
been  brought  over  to  Heart's  Delight  in  one  of  the  fishing 
vessels  from  Dartmouth.  The  south  side,  facing  the  harbor, 
was  partly  filled  with  a  bay  window,  the  lower  half  of  which 
was  a  cushioned  seat,  covered  with  skins  and  rugs.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room  was  the  ingle-nook,  with  a  home- 
made settle,  the  production  of  a  local  carpenter.  The 
pride  of  the  place  was  an  eight-day  clock  in  a  Spanish 
mahogany  case,  polished  to  the  very  extremity  of  polish,  the 
clock  face  having  almost  as  beaming  a  countenance  as  Pat 


10  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Doolan  himself.  It  had  dials  for  showing  the  operations  of 
the  sun  and  moon,  and  figures  for  the  days  of  the  month. 
Doolan  declared  that,  when  it  struck  the  hour,  he  was 
reminded  of  the  church  bells  of  his  native  village.  Even 
Father  Lavello  complimented  the  eight-day  clock,  which 
tick-tacked  through  many  a  pleasant  hour  on  winter  even- 
ings, and  seemed  to  rejoice  in  the  local  happiness  and  also 
to  sympathize  with  its  troubles. 

On  the  walls  of  this  chief  room  in  the  Great  House  were 
hung  skins  of  beasts  and  birds;  muskets  and  pistols;  not  to 
mention  a  couple  of  old  cavalry  swords ;  a  picture  of  Dart- 
mouth, the  ancestral  home  of  the  Plymptons;  and  a  sampler 
which  had  been  worked  by  Hannah's  mother.  The  floor 
was  thickly  laid  with  balks  of  timber  that  were  freshly 
sanded  every  day.  The  window  panes  were  small  and 
glazed  with  leaded  glass,  opening  in  sections  for  air  and 
sun.  The  doorway  had  a  wide  porch,  flanked  by  a  couple 
of  benches,  upon  which  the  owner  and  Alan  Keith  were 
chatting  on  this  autumn  evening  of  our  story,  while  Hannah 
was  helping  her  one  domestic  and  Patrick  Doolan  (who  had 
been  in  the  old  days  Master  Plympton's  boatswain)  to 
prepare  supper. 

"No,  Alan,"  said  the  master,  looking  seaward,  a  habit 
with  him  when  unusually  serious,  "I  do  not  think  the  out- 
look promising;  that  is,  in  a  pleasant  way;  promising, 
perhaps,  as  you  nevertheless  see  it." 

"I  wouldna  presume  to  dispute  wi'  ye,"  said  Alan, 
"but  for  all  that  I  dinna  see  what's  wrang  wi'  the 
future." 

"You  lead  a  busy  life,  Alan;  you  don't  give  much  time 
to  meditation,  and  you  have  only  been  in  the  country  three 
years." 

"Is  it  sae  long?"  said  Alan,  thinking  at  the  moment  of 
the  time  he  had  wasted,  not  having  the  courage  to  let  Han- 
nah know  the  state  of  his  feelings, 


AFTER  THE  FISHING  FLEET  HAS  SAILED.          II 

"So  long!"  said  the  master,  "and  I  have  lived  here 
nearly  all  my  life." 

"I  was  not  exactly  thinking  of  time  in  the  concrete,  but 
in  the  abstract,"  said  Alan,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his 
great  belt. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Plympton,  turning  his 
kindly  but  anxious  face  toward  his  friend  and  neighbor. 

"Weel,  I  dinna  wonder  at  that,"  Alan  replied,  smiling. 
"I  dinna  quite  understand  mysel';  but  I  do  think  some- 
times, ay,  oftener  than  ye  imagine;  and  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  Newfoundland's  the  place  for  a  man  to 
stand  by;  it  cannot  fail  to  have  a  grand  future." 

"Then  we  are  thinking  in  very  opposite  directions,"  said 
Plympton,  stroking  his  clean-shaven  chin.  "I  was  thinking 
that  it  had  become  a  good  place  to  quit;  I  was  thinking  of 
home." 

"Hame!"  exclaimed  Alan,  the  weight  of  whose  Scotch 
accent  was  more  or  less  intermittent  according  as  his  feel- 
ings moved  him — and  the  reader  must  understand  that  in 
this  record  it  is  only  intended  to  suggest  his  vernacular,  so 
that  the  most  Southern  readers  may  not  be  confused  with 
an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  writer  to  be  superlatively  char- 
acteristic in  the  matter  of  dialects,  or  so  realistic  that  he 
cannot  be  understood.  "Hame!"  repeated  Alan;  "dinna 
ye  consider  Heart's  Delight  hame?  Ye  hae  never  lived 
anywhere  else,  eh?" 

"Only  as  a  boy  at  St.  John's;  but  I  have  seen  the  land 
of  my  fathers;  it  is  very  sweet,  and  of  a  mild  and  gentle 
temperature.  And  look  you  at  yonder  picture  hanging 
over  my  father's  musket,  is  it  not  like  a  bit  of  para- 
dise? It  is  true  I  was  born  on  this  island  that  tries 
to  think  it  is  a  settlement.  But  I  am  getting  weary 
of  its  uncertainties." 

"Eh,  man,  dinna  say  that,"  Alan  replied,  taking  his 
hands  from  his  belt  and  rubbing  his  knees  nervously.  "I 


12  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

seem  to  hear  just  the  deathknell  of  all  my  hopes  when  ye 
talk  like  that." 

"And  what  are  your  hopes,  Alan?"  asked  Plympton, 
looking  the  young  fellow  steadily  in  the  eye. 

"What  are  they?"  said  Alan,  unable  to  bear  the  inquir- 
ing gaze  of  his  host. 

"'Yes,  what  are  they?  Don't  get  up,  man.  Are  you 
ashamed  of  your  ambition?" 

Alan  had  risen  to  lean  his  back  against  the  doorpost  and 
blush.  There  was  no  mistake  about  the  blush.  Master 
Plympton  noted  Alan's  confusion. 

"I  canna  tell  whether  I  am  or  no,"  Alan  replied. 

"Then  out  with  it,  man !  Have  we  lived  as  friends  and 
neighbors  these  three  years  and  yet  there  is  no  confidence 
between  us?" 

"I'm  but  a  poor  fisherman,"  said  Alan,  "and  much 
beholden  to  ye  for  the  kindness  ye've  shown  me.  I  might 
have  gone  hame,  it's  true,  and  perhaps  have  done  better  wi' 
a  bit  craft  o'  my  ain;  but  there,  what's  the  gude  talking? 
a  man  never  knaws  what's  best  for  him  to  do.  But  ye  say 
I  dinna  think;  I  tell  ye,  Master  Plympton,  I  hae  thought  a 
good  deal  about  this  country;  I  hae  seen  a  many  miles  of  it 
on  the  coast  and  inland;  there  is  not  a  creek  or  a  bay,  not 
a  bit  of  the  coast  that  I  dinna  ken;  there's  every  kind  o' 
treasure  for  the  adventurer  and  explorer  in  these  regions;  far 
inland  there's  a  climate  as  fine  as  ye  could  wish,  and  many 
fruits  and  flowers,  and  I  make  nae  doubt  of  mineral  treasures 
that  would  be  worth  all  your  bonnie  county  o'  Devon  from 
shore  to  shore,  asking  your  pardon  for  saying  so." 

"Why,  Alan,"  said  Plympton,  turning  round,  to  catch 
the  expression  of  Alan's  averted  face,  "what  has  happened? 
You  talk  like  a  man  of  ideas,  and  as  you  speak  I  could  almost 
fancy  I  hear  my  poor  father  talking,  for  he  was  enthusiastic 
about  Newfoundland.  But  why  have  you  not  said  these 
things  to  me  before?" 


AFTER  THE  FISHING  FLEET  HAD  SAILED.          13 

"I  dinnaken,"  said  Alan,  "I  suppose  I  am  a  coward;  or 
may  be,  it's  ingratitude;  the  auld  proverb  says,  'Ye  put  a 
snake  into  yer  bosom,  and  it  stings  ye.'  ' 

Plympton  was  a  thoughtful  man.  He  loved  books, 
though  he  had  only  a  few;  and  he  believed  he  understood 
character.  His  appearance,  while  it  invited  confidence, 
demanded  respect.  Alan  always  regarded  him  as  a  superior 
being.  He  talked  something  like  a  dominie,  Alan  thought 
— with  correct  emphasis  and  pronunciation.  Even  when 
he  had  taken  an  extra  glass  of  whisky,  Plympton  never  lost 
a  certain  tone  of  distinction  that  was  very  notable  among 
the  colonials. 

"Could  it  be  possible  that  Alan  wanted  to  speak  to  him 
of  Hannah?"  he  thought.  "And  why  not?"  Alan  all  the 
time  was  fearing  that  even  a  hint  at  his  desire  might  break 
off  their  friendship  and  decide  Plympton  to  quit  the 
country  and  gae  "hame, "  as  he  persisted  in  calling  the 
English  county  of  Devon.  They  could  both  hear  Hannah's 
voice  in  the  house;  they  gathered  that  she  was  baking  a 
cake  for  supper  and  that  Sally  Mumford  had  nearly 
finished  laying  the  cloth,  while  the  old  salt,  as  Doolan  was 
mostly  called,  had  himself  been  preparing  a  dish  of  fish  in 
the  way  that  was  most  appetizing  to  the  master;  Doolan 
having  a  stove  all  to  himself  in  what  was  called  the  back 
kitchen. 

"Come,  man,  sit  you  down,"  said  Plympton;  "something 
has  gone  wrong  with  you." 

"Nae,"  said  Alan,  "I  dinna  think  that,  but  something 
might;  it's  the  thought  o'  it  that  fashes  me." 

"Why,  what  could  go  wrong  with  you?  Are  you  in 
debt?" 

"Nae,  except  for  the  hospitality  ye  hae  always  shown  me, 
Master  Plympton." 

"You  have  paid  that  over  and  over  again,  Alan,  by 
your  agreeable  companionship;  not  to  mention  many 


14  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

an  act  of  neighborly  work  at  the  fishing  grounds  and 
at  home." 

"Thank  ye,  sir,  I  take  it  kind  o'  ye  to  speak  of  my  com- 
panionship being  agreeable ;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  there  is  in 
this  island  everything  to  make  man  happy;  and  I'll  tell  ye 
what  will  be  a  great  thing  in  the  future,  when  the  auld 
country  discovers  Newfoundland  for  the  second  time,  and 
that's  the  fact  that  she  is  nae  sae  far  from  markets  in  the 
auld  land,  not  only  for  the  harvest  o'  the  sea  but  the  harvest 
o'  the  airth;  ay,  and  grand  markets  they  might  be.  That's 
plain  to  see  in  yonder  ships,  that  have  just  disappeared,  sail- 
ing into  St.  John's  and  hereabouts  every  season,  making 
their  masters  and  the  merchants  over  yonder  rich  and 
proud." 

"And  tyrannical!"  said  Plympton,  moved  by  Alan's 
earnestness;  "treading  out  the  life  of  the  colony  under  their 
great  boots,  and  dispensing  a  justice  that  is  worse  than  law- 
lessness." 

"That's  true,"  said  Alan;  "I'm  with  ye  there,  Master 
Plympton,  but  dinna  ye  think  that  may  all  come  to  an  end?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  master,  "the  world  itself  will  come 
to  an  end  in  time.  I  really  am  thinking,  Alan,  that  the 
best  thing  I  could  do  would  be  to  take  my  daughter  Han- 
nah away  to  Dartmouth  and  settle  there  for  the  remainder 
of  my  days." 

Plympton  threw  in  the  name  of  his  daughter  by  way  of 
experiment,  and  watched  Alan  as  he  replied. 

"Settle!"  said  Alan,  once  more  rising  to  his  feet,  "and 
would  ye  settle,  think  ye?  Wi'  ships  o'  war  goin'  out 
against  the  Yankees  and  the  French,  and  wi*  schooners 
carrying  their  guns  against  the  Spaniard,  think  ye  there'd 
be  any  rest  in  that  port  o'  Dartmouth  ye  talk  of  sae  much? 
Nae,  Master  Plympton,  ye'd  just  be  manning  a  ship  o'  war 
on  your  own  account,  and  gaeing  out  wi'  the  rest." 

"Maybe,"  said  Plympton;  "it  is  like  enough." 


AFTER  THE  FISHING  FLEET  HAD  SAILED.         IS 

"Ye  hae  been  assured  o'  your  property  rights,  your 
house  is  secure  by  legal  title,  and  your  lands;  since  I,  too, 
am  just  simply  devoted  to  the  fisheries,  it  is  likely  that  I'll 
be  able  to  get  the  same  privileges;  but  if  I  fail  i'  that,  why, 
believe  me  or  believe  me  not,  there's  land  even  in  that  very 
bight  of  Labrador,  away  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  admi- 
rals, that  might  content  any  man." 

"Labrador!"  exclaimed  Plympton;  "why,  my  poor  father 
avoided  Labrador  as  he  would  the  infernal  regions! 
What  is  the  lad  talking  of?  Labrador!  The  land  of 
devils,  wandering  Indians,  and  jabbering  Esquimaux." 

"With  exceptions,  master,  let  me  tell  ye,"  said  Alan, 
turning  his  earnest  eyes  upon  the  master.  "I've  sailed  right 
into  the  blackest  of  her  waters,  landed  on  her  roughest 
shores;  once,  man,  I  prayed  to  God  if  there  were  devils 
with  horns,  and  furies  with  fiery  eyes,  to  let  me  see  them; 
and  I  rowed  into  the  very  shore,  and  beached  my  boat,  but 
there  were  nae  demons,  and  naething  else  but  barrenness. 
But,  man,  I  could  show  ye  one  o'  the  snuggest  harbors  close 
by  a  good  fishing  ground,  and  one  o'  the  rarest  bits  o'  land 
in  the  island,  back  o'  the  hardest  bit  o'  the  coast,  wi' 
breakers  that  might  terrify  the  stoutest  sailor,  but  on  inves- 
tigation wi'  a  deep  channel  o'  calm  water,  fine  enough  to 
float  a  man-o'-war;  it's  just  as  if  the  breakers  and  the 
spray,  and  the  bit  nasty  rocks  were  hiding  the  channel  to 
gie  the  bravest  mariner  a  secret  rest  and  waterway.  And 
once  inside,  man,  there's  a  harbor,  and  anither  way  out 
that's  like  the  entrance  to  a  dock.  And  'way  on  the  south 
side  there's  a  cavern  that  leads  ye  out  into  the  open,  where 
Nature  sets  up  the  same  kind  o'  deception,  as  good  as 
sayin',  'There's  nought  but  desolation  for  ye  here';  but 
gae  on,  nevertheless,  and  ye  come  to  pastures,  to  trees,  to 
flowers,  to  berries,  and  on  and  on  again  there's  a  fiord 
or  lake,  with  trees  on  its  margin  that  might  be  ane  o'  the 
blessed  lakes  o'  bonnie  Scotland." 


16  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"Alan,"  said  Plympton,  rising,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
his  guest's  arm,  "it  is  nearly  supper  time;  we  have  had  a 
long  'crack'  as  you  would  call  it,  and  all  the  time  you  have 
been  hiding  something  from  me.  Nay,  don't  go  away;  I 
am  not  angry,  dear  friend;  only  sorry  that  you  no  longer 
consider  me  worthy  of  your  confidence." 

"Nae, "  said  Alan;  "let  us  walk  out  into  the  open;  my 
heart's  too  full  to  be  stifled  up  here." 

He  strode  out  into  the  open,  Plympton  by  his  side. 

"Would  ye  call  me  friend,  I  wonder,  if  ye  knew  what's 
in  my  heart?  Eh,  man,  I  dare  nae  say  what  I'd  like  to  say, 
for  fear.  I'd  rather  have  the  privilege  o'  lookin'  o'er  the 
hedge  at  the  thing  I  love  than  to  be  turned  off  altogether, 
when  the  owner  found  me  trying  to  climb  over." 

"You  are  enigmatical,"  said  Plympton.  "I  have  always 
thought  of  you,  Alan  Keith,  as  frank  and  outspoken." 

"I  would  be  content  all  my  life  to  look  at  the  gem  I 
coveted  rather  than  have  it  ta'en  away  altogether  because  I 
reached  out  my  hand  to  touch  it,"  said  Alan,  as  if  still 
communing  within  himself. 

"And  is  this  all  you  have  to  say,  now  that  we  are  in  the 
open?" 

"Nae;  by  all  that's  awful  I'll  risk  it!  After  all,  if  it  is 
to  come  it  might  as  well  come  now  as  a  year  or  two  hence; 
if  I'm  the  wolf  i'  the  fold  ye'd  better  see  me  now  in  my 
true  character,  and  hae  done  wi1  me.  But  I  couldna  telt 
ye  in  there.  I  dinna  feel  sae  mean  wi'  breathing  room. 
Hae  ye  ever  wondered  what  kept  me  here?" 

"I  have  always  been  glad  you  remained,"  said  the  master. 

"I  never  meant  to  stay  when  first  I  came;  and  my  fa- 
ther's deed  sin'  I  came,  and  the  lawyers  write  and  write. 
•But  I  couldna  leave  Heart's  Delight.  Was  it  the  fishin'? 
Was  it  the  future  o'  the  place  that  I  talk  about?  Nae,  I 
conceived  the  idea  to  rob  ye  the  first  time  I  went  to  yer 
house !  Ay,  man,  to  rob  ye  o'  what  ye  hold  dearer  than 


AFTER  THE  FISHING  FLEET  HAD  SAILED.         ij 

life!  I  was  just  a  thief — just  a  wolf  i'  the  fold,  only  biding 
my  time.  It's  Hannah!  it's  Hannah!  I  love  her!" 

A  great  tear  coursed  down  Alan's  bronzed  cheek  as  he 
confessed  what  at  the  moment  he  imagined  was  an  outrage 
upon  a  generous  hospitality.  He  hardly  knew  what  it  was 
to  be  deeply  moved,  much  less  to  shed  a  tear.  He  stood 
there  like  a  criminal  awaiting  sentence;  and  no  criminal 
ever  heard  the  verdict  "Not  Guilty"  with  greater  joy  than 
Alan  felt  when  Plympton  said,  "Keith,  give  me  your  hand; 
if  Hannah  is  willing,  I  will  give  you  hers." 

Hannah  saw  her  father  and  Alan  shaking  hands.  She 
stepped  out  upon  the  beach  and  walked  toward  them,  and 
as  she  did  so  Lester  Bentz,  who  had  been  hiding  among 
some  bushes  by  the  garden  palings,  -withdrew  more  closely 
within  the  shadow.  His  eyes  followed  the  handsome  young 
woman  as  she  approached  her  father  and  Alan,  and  he  is 
not  to  be  despised  for  admiring  her.  She  wore  a  light  print 
dress;  it  was  a  white  material,  with  lilac  sprays,  short 
waisted,  slightly  open  at  the  neck.  Her  brown  hair  was 
dressed  high  upon  her  head.  Her  face  was  aglow  with 
health,  and  it  carried  at  the  moment  something  of  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  fire  over  which  she  had  been  stooping  while 
making  a  cake  for  supper.  When  she  spoke  a  second  time, 
you  could  see  between  her  lips  a  row  of  white  teeth,  for  she 
was  laughing. 

"Ahem!"  she  said,  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  two 
men,  who  turned  to  see  her  make  a  mock  courtesy,  as  she 
observed,  with  much  pretended  formality,  "I  ventured  to 
call  you  to  supper,  but  receiving  no  answer,  I  presumed  to 
ask  what  was  the  matter." 

"And  we  thank  you,  my  darling,"  said  Plympton,  putting, 
his  arm  round  her  waist,  "and  we  have  the  pleasure  to 
inform  you  that  nothing  is  the  matter." 

"Been  making  a  bargain?"  she  asked,  returning  to  her 
natural  manner. 


l8  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"Something  in  that  way,"  her  father  replied. 

"May  I  know  what  it  is?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  her  father,  "you  have  got  to  know." 
And  as  he  said  so  he  glanced  peculiarly  at  Alan,  which 
somehow  gave  her  thoughts  a  serious  turn. 

"Oh!"  was  all  she  said. 

"It  is  a  bargain,  if  bargain  it  may  be  called,  that  con- 
cerns you  more  than  anyone  else  in  the  world,"  said  her 
father. 

The  same  little  exclamation  as  before  was  Hannah's 
comment. 

"Our  dear  friend  and  neighbor,  Alan  Keith,  will  tell  you 
all  about  it." 

"Oh!"  said  Hannah. 

"Will  you  not?"  Plympton  asked,  turning  to  the  silent 
Alan. 

"If  I  can,"  said  Alan,  looking  rather  shyly  at  Hannah. 

"Oh!"  said  the  belle  of  Heart's  Delight,  her  eyes  seek- 
ing the  sandy  path,  her  arm  resting  upon  her  father's,  her 
thoughts  in  a  whirl  of  curious  but  not  unhappy  anticipation. 

As  they  entered  the  house  Lester  Bentz  crept  from  his 
hiding  place  into  the  open,  and  made  his  way  to  the  tem- 
porary hut  which  he  had  raised  near  the  fish  stages. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AROUND    A    WINTER    FIRE. 

ALL  Heart's  Delight  turned  out  to  add  a  wing  to  the 
Great  House  for  the  home  of  Alan  Keith  and  Hannah 
Plympton,  who  were  married  and  as  good  as  settled  within 
a  month  of  Alan's  ordeal  of  asking. 

In  October  Alan  and  the  leading  settlers  went  forth  on  a 
sporting  expedition,  which  had  been  unusually  successful. 
They  returned  laden  with  caribou,  which  gave  the  entire 
settlement  skins  for  the  winter  and  the  Great  House  a  fresh 
set  of  decorative  antlers. 

The  fishing  season  had  been  fairly  profitable,  and  the 
settlement  generally  was  in  a  flourishing  condition.  The 
villagers  had  never  seen  so  lively  an  autumn,  never  so  merry 
a  winter. 

Most  of  the  little  settlements,  and  even  St.  John's, 
found  winter  as  a  rule  dull,  monotonous,  and  often  miserable, 
but  Heart's  Delight  had  always  managed  to  keep  its  winter 
bright  and  pleasant,  thanks  chiefly  to  the  authority  and 
good  management  of  Master  Plympton.  He  dealt  out 
summary  measures  to  evildoers,  by  general  consent  and 
authority  of  his  neighbors,  and  by  dint  of  his  good  nature 
helped  to  make  Heart's  Delight  desirable  to  all  decent, 
well-behaved  people. 

This  winter  of  the  newly  married  couple  was,  beyond  all 
winters  that  had  passed  away,  the  most  worthy  of  the  name 
of  the  settlement.  Nobody  had  any  idea  that  life  could  be 
so  happy  as  the  Plymptons  and  the  Keiths  managed  to  make 
it.  Good  fires,  plenty  to  eat,  sleighing,  shooting,  homely 


20  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

entertainments,  dances;  hardly  a  day  or  evening  passed 
that  did  not  count  its  special  pleasure;  and  Father  Lavello, 
a  young  priest,  who  had  his  little  wooden  chapel  in  the  val- 
ley over  against  the  fish  stakes,  took  a  genial  part  in  the 
recreations  and  amusements  of  the  settlement.  Everybody 
liked  the  young  priest.  He  could  play  the  fiddle,  tell  a 
good  story,  sing  a  good  song ;  and  he  was  none  the  less  a 
disciplinarian  because  he  was  a  pleasant  fellow,  and  loved 
to  see  the  people  merry  when  they  were  not  at  prayers. 

Father  Lavello  was  the  chief  medium  of  news  at  Heart's 
Delight.  His  tidings  came  mostly  from  his  Superior  at 
St.  John's,  including  an  occasional  newspaper  from  Lon- 
don, one  now  and  then  from  Paris,  and  stray  gazettes  from 
Boston  in  the  United  States.  While  he  was  not  a  rebel,  he 
had  expressed  views  about  the  rights  of  citizens  and  subjects 
which  had  set  both  Alan  and  Plympton  thinking  more  and 
more  concerning  the  prospects  of  Heart's  Delight  and  the 
future  of  Newfoundland.  Keith  was  a  loyal  subject,  and 
yet  he  agreed  with  Father  Lavello  that  Great  Britain's 
claim  of  the  right  to  search  for  deserters  on  American 
ships  was,  to  say  the  least,  high-handed.  Plympton  was  an 
old  mariner,  had  sailed  and  fought  under  the  British  flag, 
and  honored  the  imperial  banner;  but  he  admitted  there 
was  much  to  be  said  for  the  Americans.  He  gave  both 
Keith  and  the  priest  many  instances  of  the  brutal  tyranny 
that  had  been  permitted  in  Newfoundland  by  royal  author- 
ity under  the  Great  Seal.  He  explained  that  hitherto 
Heart's  Delight  had  been  somewhat  favored,  perhaps 
through  his  own  exceptional  influence;  but  the  story  of 
Newfoundland,  generally,  had  been  one  of  unparalleled 
cruelty  on  the  part  of  the  Fishing  Admirals. 

"And  who  knows,"  he  said,  "that  our  turn  may  not 
come?  Not  for  thirty  years,  until  last  season,  have  we  had 
a  shed  pulled  down  in  Heart's  Delight;  while  St.  John's 
has  seen  houses  dragged  to  the  earth,  their  owners  reviled, 


AROUND  A    WINTER  FIRE.  21 

their  women  insulted.  Imagine  settlers  tried  for  the 
offense  of  building;  tried  on  the  deck  of  some  ship  that 
had  for  its  master  a  vulgar,  ignorant,  overbearing  plebeian, 
dispensing  what  he  called  justice  as  Admiral  of  the  Fleet!" 

"I  cannot  imagine  how  such  outrages  could  be  per- 
mitted!" said  the  young  priest,  crossing  himself. 

"Why,  my  dear  father,  do  you  not  know  that  the  bits  of 
sheds  Patrick  Burke  put  jip  to  cover  his  potatoes  were 
removed  last  season  by  order  of  Admiral  Ristack — admiral, 
forsooth — and  the  timber  burnt?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  of  it,  Mr.  Plympton;  and  the  incident 
pained  me  very  much." 

"It  would  have  pained  you  more  if  you  had  witnessed 
my  reception  on  board  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth,  when  I 
went  to  plead  for  the  poor  fellow,"  said  Plympton,  with  an 
impatient  gesture. 

"Truly,  truly,"  said  the  priest.  "I  did  not  myself  dare 
to  interfere,  knowing  how  much  more  favor  the  Church 
receives  at  Heart's  Delight  than  anywhere  else  in  the 
island;  discretion  is  sometimes  almost  a  virtue,  don't  you 
think  so,  Alan  Keith?" 

"Eh,  man,  but  it's  sometimes  hard  to  be  discreet. 
There's  yonder  Lester  Bentz;  saving  your  honor's  pres- 
ence, I'd  like  to  get  my  fingers  into  his  neckcloth,  for  they 
tell  me  it  was  he  who  pointed  out  to  the  admiral  that  the 
wee  shed  had  got  a  chimney;  and  it  was  the  chimney  that 
was  the  offense." 

"It  is  remarkable,"  said  Father  Lavello,  "that  spite  of 
the  harsh  regulations  of  the  home  government,  men  and 
women  continue  to  come  to  Newfoundland;  men  with 
women — even  women  alone.  What  is  the  matter  with  the 
old  country  that  emigration  on  such  conditions  is  ac- 
ceptable?" 

"I  conceive  it  to  be  just  the  wanderin'  habits  o'  the  poor 
folk,"  said  Alan,  "and  the  idea  o'  change.  I've  often 


22  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

thought  myself — again  saving  your  reverence's  presence — 
that  after  all  the  punishment  o'  the  Wandering  Jew  was  na 
sae  bad  if  he  could  only  hae  gotten  his  food  regular  and  in 
comfort." 

"That  is  a  pretty  sentiment  to  settle  down  with,"  said 
Hannah,  looking  up  from  her  sewing. 

"It's  just  what  they  might  call  a  post-nuptial  sentiment, 
Hannah,  for  I  dinna  hold  wi'  'it  now,  be  sure.  It's  your 
father  who  wants  to  leave  Heart's  Delight,  not  me." 

"I  believe  you,  Alan;  but  if  father  does  talk  of  the  old 
country,  after  all  it  is  only  to  give  us  what  he  calls  security; 
and  in  his  declining  years  it  is  natural  that  he  should  think 
of  his  own  land." 

"That's  where  I  dinna  agree  with  the  dear  guidman," 
Keith  answered.  "Dartmouth  is  nae  his  countrie;  he  was 
born  at  St.  John's,  where  his  mither  and  father  are  buried, 
and  surely  that  makes  Newfoundland  his  countrie." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Plympton,  "but  once,  when  I  was  a 
man,  Alan,  I  went  to  Plymouth  with  one  of  the  Fishing 
Admirals  and  made  a  stay  in  Devonshire,  and  it's  a  fine 
country,  I  can  tell  you,  Alan;  a  sweet  land  of  stream  and 
valley." 

"Weel,  and  Perth  is  na  sae  bad,  I'm  thinking;  but 
what's  the  matter  wi'  Newfoundland?  We'll  get  rid  o' 
the  Fishing  Admirals  one  o'  these  days;  and  if  we  don't, 
why  we  must  gae  to  an  unfrequented  part  outside  the 
official  boundaries,  and  make  a  paradise  there ;  we  can  do 
it,  can't  we,  Hannah?" 

"Eh,  Alan,  you  are  so  romantic,"  Hannah  replied,  with 
a  smile  of  admiration. 

They  were  an  interesting  family  gathering,  sitting  by  the 
fire,  which  sent  a  glow  over  walls  and  ceiling.  It  was  a 
great  wood  fire  that  crackled  and  spluttered  until  it  smol- 
dered down  into  a  silent  heat,  and  then  the  old  salt,  Pat 
Doolan,  brought  fresh  logs  and  put  them  on.  The  new 


AROUND  A    WINTER  FIRE.  23 

fuel  was  heralded  as  it  were  by  swarms  of  golden  bees,  that 
went  sailing  up  the  wide  chimney  and  out  into  the  starlight 
night.  Father  Lavello  was  smoking  a  long  pipe,  and  sitting 
in  a  highbacked  chair.  Master  Plympton  was  ensconced 
in  the  window  seat,  where,  drawing  aside  the  curtain,  he 
could  see  the  broad  ocean  right  across  a  wilderness  of  snow 
that  made  a  white  woolly  carpet  all  over  the  long  sandy 
beach.  They  had  not  closed  the  shutters.  It  was  Plymp- 
ton's  house  where  they  had  all  supped,  and  he  liked  the 
view  at  all  times  from  the  big  front  window  that  overlooked 
the  bay.  Hannah  was  sewing  by  the  table  in  the  light  of  a 
small  oil  lamp,  and  Alan  was  sprawling  almost  at  her  feet 
upon  a  rug  of  wolf  skins,  and  looking  into  the  fire.  Lavello 
had  mentioned  the  probability  of  his  having  to  leave 
Heart's  Delight,  at  least  for  a  time.  Alan  expressed  his 
deep  regret  at  the  suggestion  of  such  a  possibility.  He 
liked  the  young  priest,  and  they  had  often  discussed 
together  the  destiny  of  the  colony  and  the  quarrels  of  the 
old  country  with  America. 

"And  where  should  you  be  likely  to  go,  Father  Lavello?" 
asked  Hannah,  looking  up  from  her  patchwork. 

"To  Italy,"  said  the  priest.  "I  was  born  in  Italy,  you 
know,  and  I  conclude  there  is  a  plan  to  do  me  a  kindness 
by  giving  me  duty  in  Venice." 

"In  Venice!"  exclaimed  Hannah.  "I  have  heard  mari- 
ners say  that  Venice  is  the  most  lovely  city  in  the  whole 
world — built  in  the  sea,  nearly  every  house  a  marble  palace. 
It's  too  much  to  be  believed." 

"Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Plympton,  "you  have  known  noth- 
ing better  than  Heart's  Delight  and  St.  John's;  you  don't 
understand  what  fine  brick  and  stone  houses  are;  as  for 
marble  palaces;  they  are  dreams,  my  love,  to  one  who  has 
never  seen  them." 

"Have  you  never  sailed  to  Venice,  Alan?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  said  Alan,  "I  hae  mostly  navigated  the  stormy 


24  UNDER   THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

waters  of  the  Atlantic.  I  know  more  about  icebergs ;  they 
make  white  palaces  sometimes  on  a  mariner's  course  like 
fairy  pictures,  and  just  as  deevilish  if  ye  had  to  trust  to  the 
impish  lights  and  strange  forms  they  gie  themsel's." 

"I  love  Venice,"  said  the  priest  thoughtfully,  as  he 
refilled  his  pipe,  "and  my  mother  lives  in  Florence;  but  I 
have  no  desire  to  leave  you,  my  friends,  no  wish  to  give  up 
the  work  our  Holy  Father  has  given  me  here  in  Heart's 
Delight." 

"Father  Lavello,"  said  Plympton,  leaving  his  seat  by  the 
window  and  shaking  the  priest  by  the  hand,  "we  owe  you  a 
debt  we  can  never  pay,  as  friend  and  adviser;  and  as  a  priest 
with  authority,  I  have  never  known  one  so  merciful  of  his 
discipline.  I  pray  God  you  may  remain  with  us." 

"Amen!"  said  Alan. 

"I  thank  you,  dear  friends,"  said  the  priest. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"TO    YOUR    TENTS.    O    ISRAEL!" 

WHEN  the  summer  came  again,  and  the  world  of  New- 
foundland was  bright  with  fresh  foliage,  and  the  shores  of 
Heart's  Delight  busy  with  harvesters  of  the  sea,  the  Anne 
of  Dartmouth  sailed  in,  first  of  all  the  season's  ships.  Thus 
was  Ristack  once  more  admiral  of  the  fleet.  Ruddock, 
advanced  to  be  master  of  the  Pioneer,  was  the  second  to  cast 
anchor,  and  was  therefore  vice  admiral.  They  began  their 
ugly  work  with  malicious  promptitude. 

Hannah  Keith  was  nursing  her  firstborn.  She  was  not 
in  robust  health.  The  medical  science  of  the  little  colony 
was  not  of  the  highest,  and  Mrs.  Keith  had  undergone  a 
severe  time,  but  was  mending  with  the  return  of  genial 
weather.  The  boy  had  been  christened  David,  after  his 
grandfather,  and  promised  to  be  strong  and  hearty. 

Keith,  the  proud  and  loving  husband  and  father,  was 
getting  his  nets  ready  for  work.  Plympton  was  standing 
on  the  shore  watching  the  arrival  of  the  ships,  and  gather- 
ing bits  of  news  of  the  lands  beyond  the  sea,  when  Admiral 
Ristack  accosted  the  popular  settler. 

"Master  Plympton,"  said  Ristack,  "I  greet  you." 

"Good-day,  Master  Ristack,"  said  Plympton,  "and  wel- 
come once  more  to  Heart's  Delight!" 

There  was  not  much  of  the  ring  of  sincerity  in  Plymp- 
ton's  voice.  He  did  not  like  Ristack;  but  he  was  cour- 
teous to  all,  and  respected  authority. 

Ristack  (a  short,  stodgy,  ill-favored  man,  with  small  eyes 
set  as  close  together  as  a  thick  stumpy  nose  would  permit), 


26  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

tugging  up  his  great  boots  and  giving  his  belt  an  extra  eye- 
let, faced  Plympton  somewhat  aggressively,  remarking,  "I 
don't  know  that  you  have  much  cause  to  welcome  me  this 
trip ;  I  bring  orders  you  will  not  like,  but  I  am  in  duty 
bound  to  fulfill  them." 

"And  what  may  they  be,  Master  Ristack?"  asked 
Plympton. 

"Admiral  Ristack,  if  it  so  please  you,  Master  Plympton," 
said  Ristack,  fastening  the  button  of  his  belt. 

"So  be  it!"  Plympton  replied.  "Admiral  Ristack, 
since  we  stand  on  ceremony." 

'  'You  have  not  been  used  to  stand  on  ceremony,  Master 
Plympton,  but  the  government  have  a  mind  to  enforce  both 
ceremony  and  law  at  last.  From  this  time  forth  every 
building  within  six  miles  from  the  shore  is  either  to  be 
razed  to  the  ground  or  taken  over  for  the  fisheries." 

"Indeed,"  said  Plympton,  looking  at  the  admiral  and 
then  turning  his  face  in  the  direction  of  his  son-in-law, 
"such  a  visitation  upon  Heart's  Delight  would  be  in  con- 
travention of  rights  that  have  been  ratified  both  by  kings 
and  envoys;  and  Sir  David  Kirke  had  double  endowment 
of  this  particular  settlement,  he  and  his  heirs  forever. 
Furthermore ' ' 

"Sir  David  Kirke  be  hanged,  sir!'  exclaimed  Ristack; 
"and  a  murrain  on  your  furthermores!  I  summons  you  to 
quit  yonder  building  which  you  have  the  boldness  to  call 
the  Great  House,  and  I  give  you  twenty-four  hours  to  put 
away  such  of  your  effects  as  you  may  desire  to  preserve;  I 
have  need  of  some  of  the  other  huts  for  the  fisheries,  but  I 
can  dispense  with  the  Great  House  and  so  can  His  Majesty; 
though  it  might  make  a  good  fishhouse  and  flake;  but  that 
will  be  considered  by  myself  and  the  other  admirals." 

Plympton,  somewhat  dazed,  passed  his  hand  over  his 
forehead,  and  shook  himself  as  if  from  a  dream. 

"I   expected    it    would    stagger   you   somewhat,    Master 


"TO  YOUR   TENTS,  0  ISRAEL!"  2^ 

Plympton,"  said  the  admiral,  "but  you  have  had  a  long 
innings  at  Heart's  Delight.  You've  sported  it  as  a  king 
might,  and  you've  laid  by  for  stormy  weather.  I've  heard 
of  your  remittances  to  the  Bank  of  England,  and  I  take 
occasion  to  congratulate  you  on  your  London  deposits; 
you  may  need  them  now." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Master  Ristack,  that " 

"Admiral  Ristack,  if  it  please  you,"  interrupted  the 
ruffian. 

"Admiral  Ristack — by  the  lord  you  do  well  to  remind 
me  how  a  great  title  can  be  borne  by " 

"An  honest  man,"  said  Ristack,  in  a  loud,  boisterous 
manner,  "and  one  who  owns  his  lands  by  rightful  title, 
and  builds  his  house  not  on  the  sands,  where  storm  and 
tempest  may  wash  it  away,  but  upon  the  rock,  sir.  And 
mark  me,  Master  Plympton,  it  does  not  behove  a  man  in 
your  position  to  flout  the  Admiral  of  the  Fishing  Fleet,  who 
represents  authority  that  is  stamped  with  the  Great  Seal  of 
the  realm,  sir;  and  I'd  have  you  to  understand  that!" 

Alan  Keith,  seeing  that  the  two  men  were  engaged  in  an 
angry  altercation,  left  his  nets  and  came  up  to  them;  as 
did  also  Vice  Admiral  Ruddock,  accompanied  by  several 
sailors  and  fishermen  from  the  ships. 

"Allow  me,  Master  Plympton,"  said  Ristack,  "to  intro- 
duce to  your  notice  my  colleague,  Vice  Admiral  Ruddock, 
of  the  Pioneer  ;  he  will  bear  me  out  in  what  I  have  said." 

Plympton  bowed  his  head  slightly  to  Ruddock,  a  wiry 
fellow  with  lantern  jaws,  and  a  strong  vulpine  mouth,  firm 
and  cruel.  He  wore  something  .between  an  officer's  uni- 
form and  a  fisherman's  jacket,  with  boots  of  an  exaggera- 
tive pattern,  and  round  his  neck  a  heavy  gilt  chain.  There 
was  a  touch  of  the  mountebank  in  Ruddock's  uniform;  it 
was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  grotesque  idea  of  the  home 
authorities  in  giving  such  men  the  title  of  admiral,  and  it 
was  fitting  that  they  should  suggest  the  pirate  in  their  style 


28  UNDER   THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

and  manner,  seeing  that  they  wielded  powers  little  inferior 
to  those  which  pirates  exercised  by  force  of  numbers, 
audacity,  and  unscrupulous  followers. 

"What's  gane  wrang?"  asked  Alan  Keith,  standing  forth, 
and  dominating  the  little  crowd  with  his  masterful  per- 
sonality. 

"This  master  of  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth"  said  Plympton. 

"Who  is  Admiral  of  the  Fleet,"  interrupted  Ristack. 

"The  first  arrival;  therefore  Admiral  of  the  Fleet,"  said 
Plympton. 

"And  therefore  the  king's  representative  for  the  time 
being,"  said  Ristack. 

"And  with  new  powers,  d'ye  mind,  from  London,"  added 
Vice  Admiral  Ruddock. 

"To  the  deil  wi'  your  palaver  and  fine  phrases!"  said 
Keith.  "What's  the  business?" 

"It's  just  this,  my  man,"  said  Ristack,  assuming  his 
most  pompous  manner,  "that  Heart's  Delight  has  to  obey 
the  law  that  makes  it  and  St.  John's  and  the  rest,  what  was 
always  intended  from  the  first,  a  training  ground  for  His 
Majesty's  fleet,  and  a  fishing  station  for  His  Majesty's 
Fishing  Admirals;  since  you  ask,  why  that's  the  business." 

"Weel,  and  in  what  have  we  broken  the  law  here  at 
Heart's  Delight?"  asked  Keith.  "Have  we  nae  been  loyal 
to  His  Majesty,  and  honest,  kept  the  peace,  nae  listened  to 
sedition,  and  paid  our  way?" 

"Oh,  you're  a  mighty  fine  company,"  said  Ristack 
scornfully,  "all  kinds  of  ye,  Scotch  and  Irish  and  French 
too,  I  make  no  doubt;  and  ye  have  built  yerselves  fine 
houses,  and  made  yerselves  gardens,  and  flown  in  the  face 
of  the  laws  and  the  conditions  of  the  fisheries;  but  you've 
got  to  bend  to  the  King's  Majesty  and  the  admirals " 

"And  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,"  said  Ruddock, 
coming  to  the  aid  of  his  chief,  "that  Heart's  Delight  has  to 
be  moved;  that  is,  such  of  it  as  is  illegal." 


"TO  YOUR  TENTS,  0  ISRAEL!"  29 

"There's  only  one  man  in  the  place  who  has  had  the 
grace  to  obey  the  law,"  said  Ristack,  his  eyes  falling  on 
the  figure  of  Lester  Bentz,  "and  I'm  glad  to  see  him  here." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  dissent  from  the  little  crowd  of 
men  of  Heart's  Delight,  who  were  now  attracted  to  the 
scene. 

"And  what's  it  amount  to?"  asked  Keith,  "the  matter 
ye  hae  got  to  say  to  Master  Plympton?" 

"It  is  not  to  Master  Plympton  alone,"  Ristack  replied, 
"but  to  others;  indeed  to  all  of  you  who  have  built  and 
made  gardens  within  the  limits  of  the  fisheries;  if  you  insist 
on  staying  in  the  country  after  the  fishing's  over,  contrary 
to  the  rules  and  conditions  of  the  regulations  which  come 
from  the  Star  Chamber  downward  until  now,  why  ye  must 
go  inland — six  miles  at  the  shortest." 

"Go  inland!"  exclaimed  Keith. 

"I  said  inland;  and  that  is  only  a  general  permission  and 
it  does  not  mean  that  it  gives  you  any  rights  of  planting, 
but  only  rights  to  herd  with  the  moose,  the  fox,  and  such 
like;  but  with  no  more  rights  than  the  fox  has,  and  the 
wolf,  and  the  moose.  Your  houses  by  the  shore  must 
come  down;  that's  the  business,  Master  Alan  Keith,  I  was 
talking  over  with  Master  Plympton  when  ye  came  up." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Keith,  "d'ye  say  we  mun  pull  our 
hooses  down?  Pull  'em  down!  The  Great  House,  and 
the  wee  bit  hut  we  hae  added  to  it  last  autumn?" 

"Every  log  of  'em,"  said  Ristack,  "and  within  the  next 
twenty-four  hours  the  work  must  begin.  I  give  ye  that 
time  to  get  out  your  belongings;  that  done,  the  rest  can  go 
on  as  quickly  as  hands  can  wipe  out  the  offenses  to  the  King's 
Majesty." 

Ristack  brought  in  the  name  of  the  King  as  often  as  he 
could,  to  shield  his  own  conduct.  Kings  and  governments, 
when  they  delegate  power  to  their  instruments  and  officers, 
would  do  well  to  remember  that  if  the  Great  Seal  covers  a 


30  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

despotic  action  they  alone  are  held  up  as  the  instigators  and 
authors  of  the  wrong  that  is  being  done;  while  on  the  other 
hand  their  good  deeds  are  often  claimed  by  the  officials  or 
others  who  are  the  mere  agents  who  carry  them  out. 

"And,  moreover,"  said  Ruddock,  "you  have  defied  the 
government,  inasmuch  as  ye  have  permitted  a  Roman 
Catholic  priest  to  settle  among  you,  and  perform  the  obnox- 
ious rites  of  mass.  Did  ye  not  know  that  at  a  court  held 
at  Harbor  Main,  September  25,  1755,  that  an  order  was 
given  to  the  magistrates  commanding  that  a  certain  indi- 
vidual who  had  permitted  that  thing  to  be  done  in  one  of 
his  fish  rooms,  he  being  present  himself  contrary  to  law, 
and  against  our  sovereign  lord  the  King,  was  fined  in 
the  sum  of  fifty  pounds,  the  fish  rooms  demolished,  and 
the  owner  thereof  compelled  to  quit  the  harbor  of  St. 
John's!" 

"I  have  heard  o'  outrages  done  by  what  ye  call  the  mag- 
istrates commanding,"  replied  Keith;  "the  particular  one 
ye  name  is  news  to  me.  But  let  me  tell  ye,  Master  Ris- 
tack,  that  we  stand  on  our  own  ground  at  Heart's  Delight ; 
and  I  think  my  neebors  will  agree  wi'  me  that  His  Majesty 
has  jest  enough  on  his  hands  at  present  without  vexing  his 
honest  subjects  in  Newfoundland." 

"Oh,  that's  your  answer,  is  it?"  said  Ristack. 

"Master  Plympton,  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  restrain 
your  friend,"  remarked  Ruddock. 

Keith  turned  upon  Ruddock  with  a  scowl,  and  by  this 
time  nearly  all  the  people  of  Heart's  Delight  were  on  the 
beach.  Several  boats  from  the  Fishing  Fleet  were  landing 
men.  The  scene  became  animated.  It  was  a  glorious 
June  day,  the  sea  perfectly  calm,  a  pleasant  breeze  blowing 
over  the  land. 

"Keith,"  said  Plympton,  "we  will  see  the  admiral's 
authority." 

"Here  it  is,"  said  the  admiral,  producing  a  formidable 


"TO  YOUR  TENTS,  0  ISRAEL!"  31 

looking  parchment,  with  a  tin  case  dangling  from  it  by  a 
cord,  plaited,  and  inside  the  case  the  Great  Seal  of  His 
Majesty  George  III.;  "perhaps  the  vice  admiral  will 
read  it?" 

"I  would  prefer  to  read  it  myself,"  said  Plympton. 

'Nay,  then,  read  it  yourself,  and  much  good  may  the 
exercise  do  you,"  said  Ristack,  handing  Master  Plympton 
the  parchment. 

The  people  talked  among  themselves  while  Plympton 
was  glancing  over  the  document;  its  purport  was  already 
known,  and  was  repeated  from  one  to  another.  Lester 
Bentz  kept  close  to  Ruddock.  Many  of  the  settlers  were 
talking  loudly  and  gesticulating.  Some  of  them  were 
already  in  altercation  with  the  fishermen  of  The  Pioneer 
and  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth. 

"Friends  and  neighbors,"  said  Plympton.  His  well- 
known  voice  was  sufficient  to  beget  immediate  silence.  He 
had  let  fall  his  soft  Cromwellian  hat,  and  standing  there 
bareheaded,  his  white  locks  falling  about  his  fine  forehead, 
he  looked  the  father  of  the  settlement;  still,  however,  so 
physically  strong  and  lithe  that  he  might  have  given  many 
a  younger  man  a  tussle  in  a  wrestling  match  or  a  bout  at 
single-stick.  "Friends  and  neighbors,"  he  said,  "this 
document  under  the  Great  Seal  of  England — how  obtained 
it  is  not  for  me  to  say,  for  who  knows  what  interests  and 
influences  are  brought  to  bear  upon  our  rights  and  privi- 
leges in  London " 

"Master  Plympton,  I  must  request "  began  the 

admiral,  interrupting  the  speaker. 

"Sir,  do  not  interrupt  me,"  said  Plympton  impatiently. 

"By  God,  if  he  does,  I'll  choke  him,  were  he  fifty  times 
an  admiral!"  exclaimed  Keith,  no  longer  able  to  control 
himself,  in  face  of  the  haughty  airs  of  Ruddock  more 
particularly. 

In  a  moment  twenty  sailors  of  the   fleet  rushed  to  the 


3*  VXDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

support  of  the  admiral,  and  double  the  number  of  the  men 
of  Heart's  Delight  stood  by  the  side  of  Alan  Keith. 

"Nay,  Alan,  give  me  leave,"  said  Plympton,  "and  you, 
my  friends,  be  patient  until  I  tell  you  the  commands  of  His 
Majesty  to  these" — with  a  somewhat  contemptuous  gesture 
— "his  servants  and  representatives." 

"Stand  by, ' '  said  the  admiral,  addressing  his  men ;  "stand 
by  and  obey  orders ;  stand  by  and  wait  for  the  word  of 
command." 

"We  are  charged  with  having  built  and  cultivated  con- 
trary to  the  law;  we  are  commanded  to  remove  such  build- 
ings and  to  cease  such  cultivation;  and  this  gentleman,  who 
by  virtue  of  his  first  arrival  in  our  harbor  is  styled  Admiral 
of  the  Fleet,  is  the  magistrate  who  has  authority  to  see 
these  orders  carried  out.  Nay,  be  patient  a  moment !  He 
is  good  enough  to  give  us  twenty-four  hours  to  remove  our 
household  goods,  prior  to  the  destruction  of  our  dwellings." 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  moments,  as  if  the  people 
were  mastering  the  full  purport  of  the  tyrannical  decree; 
and  then  there  was  a  shout  of  anger. 

"Men,"  exclaimed  Alan  Keith,  striding  among  his 
neighbors.  "To  your  homes!  Every  one  of  you  to  your 
homes!  Ask  God  to  help  ye,  and  if  he  doesna,  then  we 
mun  help  oursels!  Eh,  my  fine  Admiral  o'  the  Fleet,  d'ye 
think  we're  dumb  animals,  that  we're  going  to  stand  this 
thing?" 

"To  your  boats!"  said  the  admiral,  catching  the  spirit 
and  action  of  Keith. 

"Ay,  such  on  ye  as  hae  hearts  for  such  service  as  these 
creatures  gie  ye;  but  if  ye  are  men,  tell  your  nigger  drivers 
that  ye  will  nae  stand  by  and  see  a  wrang  done  that  would 
mek  a  pirate  blush!" 

For  a  moment  the  sailors  seemed  to  waver. 

"Rebellion!"  shouted  Ristack.  "Mutiny!  Arrest  me 
this  Alan  Keith!" 


"TO  YOUR  TENTS,  0  ISRAEL!"  33 

Keith  drew  his  knife  and  waited.  No  one  stirred. 
Ruddock  ventured  a  remark.  No  one  heard  it. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Plympton,  addressing  Ristack  and 
Ruddock,  "don't  be  rash;  you  have  given  us  twenty-four 
hours;  withdraw  your  men,  and  leave  us  to  obey  your 
warrant." 

Plympton  was  the  only  calm  man  on  either  side. 

"I  name  Alan  Keith  as  a  rebel,"  said  Ristack,  irritated 
rather  than  soothed  by  Plympton's  judicial  manner. 

"And  I  name  ye  as  a  liar!"  said  Alan,  his  face  paling 
with  anger,  "and  by  the  honor  o'  Scotland,  if  ye  dinna  tak 
yer  pirate  face  away,  I'll  mak  it  uglier  than  it  is!" 

"Rebel,  I  denounce  ye!"  shouted  Ristack;  "men,  I 
command  ye,  in  the  King's  name  arrest  me  that  traitor!" 

"Ay,  come  on!"  cried  Keith,  a  compact  knot  of  strong, 
firm  men  by  his  side. 

Plympton  once  more  intervened,  standing  between  the 
contending  factions.  "Men  of  Heart's  Delight,"  he  said, 
"friends,  neighbors,  brothers,  withdraw  to  your  homes. 
I  appeal  to  you  in  the  interests  of  your  wives  and  children. 
Alan  Keith,  son  and  comrade,  I  claim  this  once  to  com- 
mand you." 

The  settlers,  Alan  at  their  head,  walked  away  without 
another  word,  but  with  sullenness  and  anger. 

"Very  well,"  said  Ristack,  moved  by  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion of  villainy,  "I  accept  your  mediation  thus  far,  Master 
Plympton;  you  and  your  rebel  neighbors  shall  have  the 
twenty-four  hours'  grace  I've  given  my  word  for.  Rud- 
dock, pass  the  word  for  the  men  to  get  back  to  their  ships." 

Ruddock  obeyed.  The  men  returned  to  the  boats. 
Ristack  followed  them,  muttering  as  he  went,  "But  I'll 
have  Master  Alan  Keith  on  board  before  the  night's  over — 
and  in  irons — by  God,  I  swear  it!" 


CHAPTER  V. 

COUNCILS   OF    PEACE    AND   WAR. 

A  MEETING  was  called  of  the  principal  men  in  the  village. 
They  assembled  in  the  living  room  of  the  Great  House. 
Women  were  also  present.  The  brightness  of  the  morning 
was  in  sad  contrast  with  the  gloom  depicted  upon  the  faces 
of  the  people. 

Three  pioneers  of  the  coming  fleet  were  lying  placidly  at 
anchor,  while  far  away  could  be  seen  the  white  sails  of 
other  ships  making  their  way  to  the  fishing  grounds. 

At  the  back  of  the  bay  the  blue  hills  rose  up  to  the  blue 
sky.  Bees  were  humming  in  the  gardens  of  the  Great 
House.  In  the  room  where  the  villagers  were  assembled, 
the  old  clock  in  the  Spanish  mahogany  case  was  ticking  its 
loudest.  The  full  moon  on  its  disk,  glowing  with  the  red 
cheeks  of  the  man  inside  that  luminary,  looked  quite  jubi- 
lantly upon  the  meeting.  How  often  external  things  seem 
to  be  especially  bright  when  we  are  most  unhappy ! 

Hannah,  pale  but  beautiful,  sat  by  the  bay  window  with 
her  infant  upon  her  knee.  Her  brown  hair  was  loosely 
gathered  together  and  fastened  in  a  knot  on  the  top  of  her 
well-shaped  head.  Her  light  print  dress  was  open  at  the 
throat.  She  looked  anxiously  at  Alan,  but  spoke  never  a 
word,  except  now  and  then  by  way  of  greeting  to  some 
newcomer. 

Plympton  had  dispatched  a  messenger  to  the  Governor  at 
St.  John's.  He  might  as  well  have  let  the  messenger 
remain  at  home.  The  Governor  had  received  orders  to  give 
place  to  the  fishing  admirals  in  regard  to  the  regulation  of 

34 


COUNCILS  OF  PEACE  AND   WAti.  35 

the  shore,  and  in  case  of  need  to  assist  the  officers  to  main- 
tain the  law.  He  had  only  just  returned  to  his  post  and 
had  brought  these  orders  in  his  pockets.  Governors,  it 
must  be  noted,  went  away  with  the  fishermen  at  the  end  of 
the  season,  and  returned  with  the  summer. 

During  the  winter  months,  as  already  mentioned,  the 
settlements  were  left  without  such  protection  of  law  as 
might  be  provided  by  the  presence  even  of  a  weak  governor. 
It  is  true  a  garrison  was  left  at  St.  John's  with  full  instruc- 
tions what  they  should  do  if  they  were  attacked  by  the 
French,  and  what  more  particularly  they  should  do  in  case 
the  French  were  victorious.  They  were  to  spike  their  guns 
and  make  other  dispositions  to  render  their  defeat  as  unim- 
portant as  possible.  But  nothing  was  said  about  the  col- 
onists; they  were  to  make  shift  to  live  and  maintain  order 
as  best  they  could. 

The  governor  to  whom  Plympton  had  dispatched  his 
messenger  was  a  weak  officer.  Moreover,  he  and  his  people 
were  somewhat  jealous  of  the  authority  that  Plympton 
wielded  at  Heart's  Delight.  While  the  little  settlement 
over  which  Ristack  and  Ruddock  were  just  now  riding 
roughshod  was  in  winter  a  model  village  of  peace  and  good 
will,  St.  John's  entered  upon  all  kinds  of  trials  and  troubles 
the  moment  the  fishing  fleets,  with  their  admirals  and  mas- 
ters, were  out  of  sight. 

In  his  contention  with  Plympton  and  the  settlers  of 
Heart's  Delight,  Admiral  Ristack  knew  to  what  extent  he 
could  go.  It  was  not  necessary  that  he  should  be  moved 
by  revenge  or  by  what  Ruddock  called  love.  He  might  be 
impelled  by  either  of  these  passions  or  not.  The  law  was 
with  him,  and  it  was  quite  open  for  him  to  merely  stand  by 
the  letter  of  it  and  pose  as  a  man  performing  an  unpleasant 
duty.  He  was  of  a  malicious  nature — hated  anyone  else 
to  be  successful  besides  himself,  could  not  endure  to  hear 
Plympton  spoken  of  as  a  kindly  and  good-natured  man  who 


36  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

loved  his  fellows  and  kept  the  village  peaceful  and  happy 
by  his  good  example.  He  was  a  grasping,  intriguing  man, 
suspected  at  Dartmouth  of  having  once  sold  a  government 
secret  to  a  French  spy,  but  he  made  his  way,  for  all  that,  to 
the  confidence  of  the  Court  of  Admiralty  in  London.  It  is 
not  unlikely  that  he  may  have  sold  the  French  spy  some- 
thing that  was  no  good,  and  made  merry  over  the  transac- 
tion with  the  authorities  in  town.  Anyhow,  he  was  on  the 
best  of  terms  with  the  best  of  London  officials  who  had 
control  of  the  affairs  of  Newfoundland. 

Ruddock  was  Ristack's  tool,  his  fetcher  and  carrier,  his 
pander,  his  toady,  his  neighbor  and  comrade.  The  vice 
admiral  gloried  in  the  possession  of  a  little  brief  authority. 
He  was  built  in  a  very  common  mold — had  risen  by  fraud, 
trickery,  and  time-serving.  On  more  than  one  occasion 
during  the  fishing  seasons  he  had  paid  Hannah  Plympton 
offensive  compliments  that  she  had  resented.  During  the 
last  voyage  home  with  his  patron  Ristack,  in  the  Anne  of 
Dartmouth,  he  had  spoken  in  opprobrious  terms  of  Alan 
Keith,  and  had  falsely  asserted  that  Alan,  in  a  conversation 
with  one  Lester  Bentz,  had  denounced  Ristack  as  a  wastrel 
and  corrupt.  Moreover,  Ruddock  had  asked,  in  one  of 
their  many  talks  during  the  voyage  homeward,  what  right 
had  Keith  at  Heart's  Delight;  he  went  there  as  a  fisherman 
with  a  Dartmouth  vessel,  and  ought  to  have  been  returned. 
The  master  was  a  Scotchman,  like  himself,  and  was  in- 
duced by  money  or  clanship  to  leave  the  lad  behind.  As  for 
him  (Ruddock)  he  would  have  no  Scotchmen  off  New- 
foundland unless  they  were  really  fishermen  in  the  service 
of  the  masters  and  the  admirals;  there  ought  to  be  a  law 
confining  the  fisheries  to  the  men  of  the  West. 

Although  Ristack,  with  a  pretended  air  of  magnanimity, 
doubted  if  this  would  be  righteous  as  law,  Ruddock  con- 
tended that  the  men  of  the  east  coast  and  such  as  came 
from  the  North,  especially  a  Perth  man,  ought  not  to  be 


COUNCILS  OF  PEACE  AND  WAR.  37 

allowed  to  become  masters,  or,  if  they  were,  on  no  condi- 
tions should  they  become  admirals,  whether  they  sailed  into 
harbor  first  or  last.  Ristack  in  this  argument  was  benev- 
olently neutral;  he  would  carry  out  the  law,  whatever  it 
might  be;  that  was  his  maxim — "Stand  by  the  law,  boys." 
He  declared  that  he  had  no  selfish  motives  in  anything  he 
did,  but,  during  a  carouse  to  the  confusion  of  all  his  enemies, 
he  confessed  to  Ruddock  that,  if  there  was  any  man  in  the 
world  whom  he  hated,  it  was  David  Plympton ;  and  in 
return  for  this  confidence  Ruddock  had  confessed  that  he 
felt  similarly  toward  Alan  Keith. 

The  authorities  in  London  were  too  busy  with  more 
important  affairs  than  such  small  matters  as  concerned 
Newfoundland.  The  rights  and  wrongs  of  so  insignificant 
a  section  of  British  subjects  as  those  who  had  dared  to 
struggle  for  an  existence  on  that  barren  coast,  had  to  give 
place  to  questions  that  were  considered  to  involve  the 
national  safety.  The  British  supremacy  of  the  seas  was 
being  contested  not  merely  by  recognized  belligerent  fleets 
but  by  pirates  and  buccaneers;  and  the  chiefs  of  the 
admiralty  were  going  to  show  their  foes  that  no  combina- 
tion, no  flying  of  false  flags,  no  subterfuges,  no  accumula- 
tion of  hostile  fleets  whatever  could  stand  against  the 
British  marine.  The  bare  idea  that  certain  illegal  settlers 
in  Newfoundland  presumed  to  move  a  finger  that  might 
seem  hostile  to  this  policy  of  defense  and  defiance  irritated 
the  authorities  to  the  last  degree.  Newfoundland  was  a 
training  ground  for  the  navy;  Newfoundland  was  a  fishery; 
Newfoundland  should  be  nothing  more. 

In  this  direction  of  thought  and  resolution  the  master 
fishermen  of  the  west,  and  the  great  merchants  and  ship- 
owners interested  in  the  fisheries,  supported  the  admiralty 
authorities  and  court  with  every  artifice  and  influence. 
Ristack  found  it  an  easy  matter  to  win  official  sanction  for 
an  arbitrary  exercise  of  power,  which  he  sought  in  regard 


38  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

to  the  revision  of  affairs  and  the  reorganization  of  the 
harbor  of  Heart's  Delight,  the  insolence  of  the  settlers  there 
having  been  reported  upon  by  himself  and  Ruddock  in 
person,  and  also  by  letter  from  one  Lester  Bentz,  a  fisher- 
man of  St.  John's,  who  had  been  prevented  from  following 
his  calling,  once  every  year,  in  the  adjacent  harbor  by  the 
outrageous  exercise  of  an  undue  and  unlicensed  authority 
on  the  part  of  one  David  Plympton,  who  actually  claimed 
to  be  legally  possessed  of  lands  and  tenements  in  the  harbor 
of  Heart's  Delight  contrary  to  law  and  public  polity. 

It  is  possible  that  Plympton,  without  knowing  anything 
of  its  details,  felt  the  spirit  and  effect  of  this  hostility. 
The  reader  knows  that  he  had  looked  into  the  future  of 
Heart's  Delight  with  misgivings.  His  judgment  had  been 
indorsed  by  signs  and  tokens  which  were  as  straws  on  the 
stream  of  time.  The  incident  of  the  removal  of  a  potato 
shed  in  the  previous  season  was  enough  to  make  Plympton 
thoughtful  and  suspicious.  It  was  a  pity  Alan  Keith  had 
not  sufficient  knowledge  of  Newfoundland  to  have  made 
him  at  once  accept  the  suggestion  of  the  master  that  they 
should  seek  the  protection  and  peace  of  the  old  country. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FOR    THE    SAKE    OE    THE    WOMEN    AND    CHILDREN. 

ON  this  summer  morning  of  that  fatal  season  of  Ristack's 
extended  authority,  Plympton  looked  unusually  grave,  and 
his  looks  did  not  belie  his  feelings.  Every  man  and  woman 
in  the  room  waited  for  his  opinion  with  undisguised  anx- 
iety. "I  am  getting  old,"  he  said,  rising  in  their  midst, 
"and  it  may  be  that  my  nerve  is  not  what  it  was;  if  we 
were  within  what  might  be  called  our  strict  legal  rights,  as 
we  undoubtedly  are  within  our  strict  moral  rights,  I  should 
urge  resistance  to  these  officers,  these  pirates,  despite  the 
letters  of  authority  that  justify  their  piracy.  And  that  is 
the  worst  part  of  the  business.  A  pirate  we  understand; 
we  fight  him  or  we  give  in;  but  here  are  men  backed  by 
the  powers  in  London,  whose  acts  are  nothing  short  of  piracy, 
though  resistance  on  our  part  to  these  magisterial  powers 
means  rebellion." 

"Then  let  it  be  rebellion,  say  I!"  exclaimed  the  next 
oldest  man  in  the  colony;  "better  lose  our  lives  than  be 
slaves  to  such  ruffians  as  Ristack  and  Ruddock,  who  have 
been  the  bane  of  Heart's  Delight  these  three  seasons  back." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  several  voices. 

"The  thief  who  lays  his  hands  on  my  dwelling,"  said  a 
younger  man,  who  had  not  long  been  married,  "had  better 
say  his  prayers." 

Alan  Keith,  nervous,  but  self-restrained,  stood  by  Han- 
nah near  the  bay  window  that  looked  out  upon  the  broad 
ocean.  He  was  leaning  against  the  window  frame,  and 
watching  the  unaccustomed  scene  in  the  Great  House, 


40  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Hannah  had  laid  her  hand  upon  his,  and  was  looking  up 
into  his  face.  She  could  see  how  bitter  was  his  struggle  to 
remain  calm  ;  she  knew  that  it  arose  from  his  great  love  for 
her.  Alan  would  have  liked  to  stand  forth  and  champion 
the  rights  of  the  villagers  with  his  strong  right  arm.  He 
longed  to  grip  Ristack  by  the  throat.  He  would  not  have 
hesitated  at  commanding  a  fleet  of  boats  to  board  the 
Anne  of  Dartmouth,  had  he  been  free  as  he  was  that 
day  when  he  had  first  seen  Hannah  standing  at  her 
father's  door. 

"What  has  Alan  Keith  gotten  to  say?"  asked  the  second 
oldest  man  in  the  village,  who  had  spoken  after  Plympton. 

Alan  made  no  reply,  and  Pat  Doolan  in  the  porchway, 
with  others  of  his  way  of  thinking,  bit  his  lips  for  fear  he 
might  be  tempted  to  interrupt  the  proceedings  before  Alan 
Keith  had  spoken. 

"You  would  like  the  voice  of  the  younger  men,  would 
you  not?"  said  a  stalwart  fellow  from  the  east  coast  of 
England,  who,  spite  of  laws  and  regulations,  had  brought 
his  wife  over  to  Heart's  Delight  and  built  himself  a  hut. 
"If  I  might  be  so  bold  as  to  speak  that  opinion,  why,  then, 
I  am  with  my  gray-haired  and  honored  neighbor  who  pre- 
fers death  to  slavery." 

"Ay,  ay,"  shouted  the  men  in  the  porchway,  and 
"Hooroo!"  exclaimed  Pat  Doolan. 

Then  there  was  a  cry  of  "Keith — Alan  Keith!" 

"Ay,  why  does  not  Mister  Keith  speak?"  asked  a  grim 
looking  villager,  almost  as  broad  as  he  was  long,  with  the 
arms  of  a  giant  on  the  body  of  a  dwarf. 

"I  am  thinking  o'  the  women  and  bairns,"  said  Alan, 
looking  round  the  room.  "If  we  could  place  them  i'  safety, 
it  would  just  be  the  reight  thing  to  f eight !  And  when  I  look 
at  the  master  there,  and  know  how  brave  a  man  he  is,  and 
he  tells  us  we're  i'  the  wrang,  I  dinna  ken  what  to  advise. 
I  hae  got  over  the  passion  I  felt  face  to  face  wi'  the  deevils 


FOR  THE   SAKE  OF  THE   WOMEN.  41 

yonder,  and  I'm  willin'  we  should  be  guided  by  what's  best 
for  the  women  and  the  bairns." 

Hannah  pressed  Alan's  hand.  He  had  spoken  without 
changing  the  position  or  attitude  he  had  taken  up  from  the 
first. 

"Spoken  like  the  good  man  ye  are,"  said  one  of  the 
women.  "We  might  take  sides  with  ye,  and  die  with  ye  for 
our  rights  and  honor;  but  what  about  the  childer?" 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  one  or  two  earnest  voices. 

"If  we  could  place  the  women  and  children  in  safety," 
said  Plympton,  "what  then?  Supposing  we  are  overcome, 
these  admirals,  as  they  are  called,  would  have  the  power  to 
take  such  of  us  as  they  could  seize  to  England  and  try  us 
for  high  treason." 

"Man,"  said  a  Scotchman,  coming  forward,  "it's  just  an 
awfu'  position!  But  I'm  for  feightin'  all  the  same!" 

"Hurrah,"  shouted  a  little  knot  of  belligerents,  especially 
those  who  had  no  belongings  of  wives  or  children.  And 
Pat  Doolan  again  raised  his  voice  with  a  double,  "Hooroo!" 

At  this  moment  Father  Lavello  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
There  were  among  the  people  of  Heart's  Delight  only  a  few 
Protestants.  This  also  was  a  grievance  of  the  Ristack  fac- 
tion. Father  Lavello  and  his  predecessors  had  worked  for 
and  with  the  people ;  had  befriended  them  in  their  money 
troubles,  had  joined  in  their  labors,  and  assisted  at  their 
humble  festivals.  They  had  made  many  converts,  but 
those  who  still  preferred  to  worship  outside  the  pale  of  the 
more  popular  church  had  no  ill-feeling  toward  the  priest. 

"God  save  you,  my  friends!"  said  Father  Lavello,  in 
his  rich,  deep  voice,  "I  am  grieved  at  the  trouble  which  has 
befallen  us.  I  have  heard  of  it  from  your  messenger.  You 
are  met  in  council;  let  us  first  ask  our  heavenly  Father  to 
guide  and  help  us  to  a  right  judgment." 

The  people  fell  upon  their  knees ;  some  with  a  fervor  of 
devotion,  others  with  something  like  a  protest. 


42  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"Fight  first  and  pray  after,  I  say!"  was  the  remark  of 
Damian,  the  dwarf  with  the  giant  arms;  nevertheless  he 
went  down  on  his  knees  with  the  rest. 

"Guide  usy  O  Lord  God,  in  this  hour  of  peril  and  dan- 
ger," said  the  priest,  raising  his  bared  head,  "that  we  may 
follow  thy  divine  will  and  glorify  thee  in  our  acts  and 
deeds.  We  are  men  of  peace,  children  of  thy  mercy. 
Thou  hast  given  us  this  place  for  a  habitation.  We  have 
raised  to  thee  and  to  thy  saints  an  altar  and  a  church. 
Our  days  have  been  spent  in  honest  labor  according  to  thy 
laws,  and  we  have  striven  to  the  best  of  our  poor  weak 
natures  to  walk  in  thy  ways,  to  honor  and  glorify  thy 
beloved  Son,  and  to  make  unto  ourselves  a  home  of  peace 
and  contentment.  If  it  is  thy  will  that  we  quit  our  altars 
and  our  homes,  and  seek  thee  beyond  the  boundaries  that 
arbitrary  human  power  has  set  up,  let  the  same  be  made 
manifest  to  thy  priests  and  to  these  thy  people  by  such  nat- 
ural inclination  as  comes  with  humbleness  and  prayer.  We 
pray  thee  to  inspire  us  with  a  rightful  judgment,  and  to 
strengthen  us  so  that  we  may  overcome  the  devil  who 
works  against  us,  and  to  give  us  courage  to  do  that 
which  is  right,  and  just,  and  true,  and  obedient  in 
thy  sight.  Amen!" 

"Amen!*  said  the  people,  as  with  one  voice;  and  every 
man  and  woman  rose  from  their  knees. 

"I  beg  to  offer  to  Father  Lavello  and  the  rest,"  said  a 
villager  who  had  hitherto  been  silent,  "this  proposal.  We 
leave  it  to  his  reverence,  and  to  Master  Plympton,  Alan 
Keith,  and  John  Preedie  what  course  it  be  deemed  right  for 
us  to  take;  whether  to  stand  by  our  homes  to  the  death  or 
to  take  away  our  bits  of  things  and  seek  new  homes  in  the 
interior." 

"Where  we'd  starve  to  death  in  the  winter,"  remarked 
one  of  the  women. 

"Nay,  nay,"  said  another  quickly,  "we  wouldn't  starve; 


FOR  THE   SAKE  OF  THE   WOMEN.  43 

and  we'd  better  starve  than  see  our  men  carried  away  to 
England  and  beheaded  on  Tower  Hilll." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  twenty  women  at  once. 

"I  have  only  one  objection  to  make,"  said  the  dwarf 
with  the  giant's  arms;  "it  is  this — and  I  mean  no  offense 
to  the  priest  though  I'm  a  Protestant  hand  and  foot,  heart 
and  soul;  that  is,  if  I'm  anything.  It's  no  good  leaving-this 
question  to  Father  Lavello;  he's  a  man  of  peace,  of  course 
— though  I've  heard  of  fightin'  priests  as  well  as  sportin' 
parsons.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there;  I'm  willin'  to 
leave  this  affair  to  the  master,  to  Keith,  and  to  Preedie; 
and  I  hope  they'll  let  us  fight  these  thieves  and  buccaneers 
with  the  law  on  their  lips  and  hell  in  their  hearts." 

"Hooroo!"  shouted  Pat. 

"And  one  cheer  more!"  cried  his  mates  at  the  porchway. 

"Then  let  it  be  so,"  said  Lavello;  "I  assuredly  should 
advise  peace,  but  I  am  willing  that  you  should  this  day  be 
guided,  under  Heaven  and  Holy  Mother  Church,  by  the 
three  good  men  and  true  who  have  been  nominated;  let  us 
then  retire  while  they  take  counsel  together." 

"Nae,"  said  Alan  Keith,  standing  away  from  Hannah, 
"we  hae  nae  need  to  tak  counsel  in  secret;  let  us  tak  it 
among  our  friends  and  neebors.  I  shall  gie  ye  my  opinion 
right  here  where  we  stand.  There's  naething  I'd  like 
better  than  to  gae  forth  and  fight  these  buccaneers  o'  the 
sea,  these  villain  agents  of  a  besotted  and  ignorant  govern- 
ment, and  tear  their  hearts  out  o'  their  vile  bodies.  But  we 
mun  stand  by  our  women." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  several  women's  voices,  "that's  right." 

"There  are  seasons  when  we  stand  by  our  women  most 
true  by  seeming  cowards — when  we  resist  our  impulses, 
when  we  decline  to  tak  chances.  Master  Plympton  tells  us 
we'd  endanger  their  lives  and  happiness  if  we  resisted  these 
men,  whether  we  drove  the  tyrannous  ruffians  to  their  ships 
or  nae,  whether  we  killed  them  or  let  them  live;  it  would  be 


44  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

all  the  same,  we'd  endanger  our  wives  and  bairns;  we  hae 
gien  hostages  to  fortune,  the  master  says,  and  we  mun  tak 
the  consequences." 

"Do  ye  mean  we  mun  gie  in?"  asked  one  of  the  young 
men  who  had  previously  spoken. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  women. 

"Nay,  nay,"  cried  several  of  the  men. 

"Neighbors!"  exclaimed  the  second  oldest  man  of  the 
village,  who  having  secured  attention  went  on,  "hear  Alan 
Keith  out!  But  let  me  also  tell  you  that  the  question 
before  us  is  whether  we  leave  ourselves  in  the  hands  of 
Master  Plympton,  Alan  Keith,  and  John  Preedie. " 

"Right  ye  are,"  said  Pat  Doolan;  "me  and  my  mates  is 
agreed  to  that." 

"I  accept  the  responsibility  with  my  neighbors,"  said 
John  Preedie,  a  sober  browed,  middle-aged  man;  "I  am 
willing  to  tell  you  my  opinion  without  more  ado.  Like  my 
friend  Damian,"  pointing  to  the  dwarf,  "I  am  a  Protestant, 
though  willing  to  acknowledge  the  good  there  is  in 
Mr.  Lavello  apart  from  his  priesthood,  and  I  think  it  best 
that  laymen  should  settle  this  thing.  I  would  stand  with 
any  man  and  defend  the  rights  of  Heart's  Delight;  but  it 
appears  we  have  no  rights  to  defend — we  are  only  lodgers. 
This  land,  which  brave  Englishmen  discovered  and  planted, 
is  not  for  all,  but  for  a  chosen  few;  and  for  my  part  I  shall 
take  myself  and  belongings  in  the  first  ship  that  can  carry 
us  to  America  and  join  our  brothers  there  who  have  not 
only  the  courage,  but  the  power,  to  resist  tyranny  and  do 
battle  for  liberty." 

"Hooroo!"  shouted  Pat;  and  his  national  manner  of 
expressing  approval  was  followed  by  a  cheer  that  might 
have  been  heard  away  on  the  decks  of  the  Anne  of  Dart- 
mouth, the  Pioneer,  and  the  Dolphin  that  had  cast  anchor 
within  the  past  twelve  hours,  thus  giving  to  the  harbor  of 


FOR  THE   SAKE  OF  THE   WOMEN.  45 

Heart's  Delight  a  full  court  of  admiral,  vice  admiral,  and 
rear  admiral. 

"In  the  meantime,"  continued  Preedie,  "I'm  for  peace. 
I'm  not  one,  as  a  rule,  who'd  turn  the  other  cheek  to  the 
smiter;  but  just  now,  to  the  strength  of  the  tiger  I  would 
oppose  the  cunning  of  the  serpent.  At  present,  I  say,  I  am 
for  peace. ' ' 

A  murmur  of  approval  came  from  the  women.  The  men 
were  silent,  for  they  saw  that  Alan  was  again  about  to  speak. 

"Dinna  ye  think,  neighbors,"  he  said,  his  face  white 
with  suppressed 'passion,  "dinna  ye  think  I  wouldna  like  to 
feight ;  dinna  ye  think  it  doesna  tak  me  all  my  time  to  say 
'Nae'  to  them  as  would.  And,  above  all,  dinna  ye  think, 
feight  or  nae,  I  will  na  be  revenged.  By  the  God  above  us 
I  will,  and  up  to  the  hilt " 

The  priest  raised  his  right  hand  reprovingly. 

"Asking  your  reverence's  pardon,"  said  Alan;  "and  ye 
mun  understan',  Father  Lavello,  that  we  Scotch  Catholics 
are  nae  sae  tractable  as  some  ithers  o'  yer  flock;  we  are  wild 
and  uncultured  to  discipline.  But  all  the  same,  friends 
and  comrades,  I'm  for  peace  this  day." 

"And  I,  too,"  said  Plympton. 

"God's  blessings  be  upon  your  good  resolves!"  said  the 
priest. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TREACHERY. 

AND  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  people  resolved,  pend- 
ing other  advice  that  might  change  them — in  the  reply  of 
the  Governor  to  the  messenger  whom  Plympton  had  sent  to 
St.  John's — that  they  would  proceed  to  move  their  house- 
hold goods  and  chattels  to  a  spot  whither  Alan  Keith 
undertook  to  lead  them.  He  had  in  his  mind  no  distant 
pilgrimage,  no  wild  scheme  of  an  independent  kind  of  gov- 
ernment away  in  the  wilds  of  Labrador,  but  a  valley  known 
to  many  of  them  only  a  few  miles  distant,  where  they  could 
build  without  the  let  or  hindrance  of  the  fishing  admirals 
and  come  to  a  decision  as  to  their  future  movements  and 
policy. 

During  the  afternoon  the  men  met  and  made  their  dispo- 
sitions for  the  morrow.  Some  of  them  already  began  to 
pack  their  goods.  Others  visited  each  other  at  their  houses 
and  said  good-by  to  their  bits  of  fragrant  gardens. 

The  women  gossiped  about  the  meeting,  and  compared 
notes  upon  methods  of  packing. 

Heart's  Delight  was  very  busy  one  way  and  another. 
The  fishing  boats  were  hauled  ashore.  Not  a  man  was  any 
longer  engaged  with  his  nets. 

The  second  oldest  man  of  the  village  had  proposed  that 
they  make  their  exodus  by  water;  but  this  was  always  over- 
ruled by  the  argument  that,  at  whatever  point  of  the  coast 
they  disembarked,  they  would  have  to  march  at  the  very 
shortest  six  miles  inland. 

Pat  Doolan  desired  to  remove  the  little  fort  and  the  two 

46 


TREACHERY.  47 

guns  which  they  had  erected  and  mounted  during  the 
winter  by  way  of  defense  of  the  harbor.  Damian,  the 
dwarf,  said  "no"  to  this,  because  they  might  still  desire  to 
turn  those  guns  on  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth,  the  Pioneer,  and 
the  Dolphin.  Pat  was  more  than  delighted  at  this  sug- 
gestion and  would  have  been  willing  to  try  the  argument 
of  shot  and  shell  on  Ristack  and  Ruddock  at  once,  spite  of 
the  fact  that  the  long  guns  which  the  fishing  admirals 
carried  would  have  been  sufficient  to  batter  down  the  little 
fort  and  destroy  the  whole  village  in  a  few  well-directed 
rounds. 

In  this  way  the  afternoon  slipped  into  evening,  and  even- 
ing into  night,  the  weather  sweet  and  soothing,  as  if  it  was 
in  sympathy  with  the  peaceful  resolutions  of  the  people. 

The  law  had  given  them  twenty-four  hours  to  remove 
their  goods.  Alan,  with  the  rest,  had  resolved  to  obey  the 
law  to  the  letter.  Plympton  and  Alan  smoked  the  pipe  of 
peace  over  their  resolve  in  the  wooden  arbor  of  Plympton 's 
garden  during  the  sunset.  They  talked  of  many  things, 
watched  the  sun  go  down  red  and  golden  into  the  sea, 
noted  its  caressing  beams  fall  upon  the  anchored  ships,  and 
took  in  the  sense  and  feeling  of  the  scene  as  betokening  a 
sort  of  dumb  approval  of  their  action. 

All  these  signs  of  peace,  however — the  perfume  of  the 
first  gillyflowers,  the  quiet  sea  reflecting  the  quiet  sky, 
the  red-gold  sunset,  with  its  last  beams  on  the  ships  in  the 
harbor  and  the  lead  glazed  windows  of  the  village — were 
but  typical  of  the  calm  that  goes  before  the  storm. 

While  Heart's  Delight  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  would  obey  the  law  as  it  was  interpreted  in  the  powers 
of  the  fishing  admirals,  Ristack  and  Ruddock,  in  council 
assembled,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  law  would  be 
best  obeyed  by  the  arrest  of  Alan  Keith,  the  ringleader  of 
what  they  chose  to  call  the  day's  re.volt.  Ristack  was  not 
a  brave  man.  He  could  fight,  if  need  be,  to  defend  his 


48  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

own,  but  he  preferred  rather  to  take  his  enemy  in  the  toils 
of  legal  villainy  than  to  run  the  risk  of  his  enemy's  knife. 
Ruddock,  in  his  black  heart,  had  a  mind  to  what  he  called 
a  flirtation  with  Hannah  Keith.  He  had  only  learned, 
after  they  had  returned  to  the  ship,  that  she  was  Keith's 
wife.  Lester  Bentz  was  his  informant.  Bentz  had  come 
aboard  in  the  dusk,  rowing  himself  from  the  shore.  After 
a  brief  conference  on  board  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth,  he 
undertook  to  pilot  a  picked  boat's  crew  to  a  point  where 
they  could  approach  the  Great  House  and  its  annex  by  a 
path  through  the  wooded  hills  that  protected  the  harbor 
from  the  north  wind  and  formed  a  picturesque  background 
to  the  village. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WOMAN'S  INSTINCT. 

SALLY  MUMFORD  had  put  the  infant  son  and  heir  of  the 
Keiths  to  bed.  He  and  his  nurse  slept  in  a  little  room 
adjacent  to  that  occupied  by  the  boy's  parents.  He  had 
been  named  David  after  his  grandfather.  Pat  Doolan, 
considering  the  child's  form  and  promise,  had  suggested 
that  Goliath  would  have  been  a  more  characteristic  name 
than  David.  But  Pat  had  always  some  lively  criticism  for 
every  event,  and  he  contended,  in  a  professedly  serious 
argument  with  Sally,  that  when  you  named  a  child  you  gave 
the  bent  to  its  future.  Well,  after  all,  perhaps,  it  was  just 
as  well  to  be  David  and  kill  your  enemy  with  a  sling  as 
with  anything  else,  so  that  ye  did  kill  him. 

Little  David  Keith  was  perfectly  oblivious  of  all  Pat's 
philosophy  and  badinage.  He  had  no  inkling  of  trouble 
present  or  to  come.  He  smiled  in  the  most  benign  way 
upon  Sally.  His  time  was  mostly  taken  up  with  an  ivory 
"tooth  promoter,"  as  Alan  called  the  fanciful  toy  which  he 
had  constructed  for  David's  amusement.  The  hope  and  joy 
of  the  Keith  household  was  quite  a  precocious  infant  con- 
sidering his  age;  for  at  three  months  much  cannot  be 
expected  in  the  way  of  an  intelligent  recognition  of  any- 
thing beyond  the  food  provided  by  Dame  Nature  for  the 
sustenance  of  her  creatures — however  insignificant. 

While  little  David  slept  in  the  fond  arms  of  his  nurse, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keith  sat  up  to  talk  over  their  plans  and 
arrangements  for  the  morrow.  They  would  be  up  with 
daylight  and  get  their  household  goods  together,  and  assist 


5<>  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

the  master  to  collect  his  belongings.  Their  own  were  a 
comparatively  small  matter;  but  in  the  Great  House  there 
would  be  the  clock  to  pack,  the  one  or  two  pictures  to  stow 
away,  the  guns  and  swords,  and  all  the  kitchen  utensils;  it 
would  be  a  heavy  day's  work.  John  Preedie's  team  would 
be  needed,  and  Alan  was  thankful  now  that  he  had  recently 
bought  an  extra  horse  at  St.  John's.  He  had  two  strong 
and  steady  animals,  and  the  master  had  a  pair.  These 
with  Damian's  mule,  and  a  donkey  or  two  belonging  to 
Jakes,  the  boat-calker,  would  make  a  good  show  in  the  way 
of  carrying  power,  considering  that  there  were  three  wagons 
and  a  couple  of  carts  in  the  settlement,  besides  the  old  shay 
that  had  been  brought  from  Devonshire  when  the  master, 
years  and  years  ago,  had  paid  his  one  long  visit  to  the  place 
which  he  still  called  home. 

They  had  little  occasion  for  horses  in  a  general  way  at 
Heart's  Delight;  but  of  late  there  had  been  something  like 
a  serious  attempt  at  farming.  John  Preedie  had  done  quite 
a  business  in  potatoes,  and  had  created  a  sensation  when 
he  had  used  a  team  of  horses  to  haul  half  his  year's  product 
to  the  beach  for  St.  John's.  What  plowing  had  hitherto 
been  done  was  chiefly  the  work  of  Jules  Amien,  but  he  was 
half  a  Frenchman,  and  he  plowed  with  a  pair  of  oxen. 
Jules  had  practiced  other  economies  in  the  matter  of  haul- 
age and  animal  power.  Not  that  Heart's  Delight  objected 
either  to  his  dog  work  or  his  oxen,  but  some  of  the  fisher- 
men were  rather  inclined  to  jeer  at  a  man  who  hitched  dogs 
to  his  boats  to  bring  them  ashore  and  beach  them. 

They  were  fine,  well-trained  dogs,  the  two  that  Jules 
called  by  the  pet  names  of  Lion  and  Tiger.  Hannah 
Keith  often  paused  when  she  was  out  of  doors  to  stroke 
them,  much  against  the  jealous  feelings  of  her  own  constant 
attendant  Sampson.  He  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  breed 
that  takes  its  name  from  the  island.  It  is  doubtful,  how- 
ever, if  what  is  now  known  as  the  Newfoundland  dog 


WOMAN'S  INSTINCT.  5! 

belonged  to  the  aborigines;  it  is  more  likely  to  have  been 
the  result  of  a  happy  crossing  of  breeds.  Master  Plympton 
described  the  genuine  one  as  a  dog  some  twenty-six  inches 
high,  with  black-ticked  body,  gray  muzzle,  white-stockinged 
legs,  and  dew  claws  behind.  Since  the  days  of  Plympton 
the  breed  has  still  further  improved;  but  even  in  his  time 
there  were  fine  examples  of  the  Newfoundland  dog,  with 
proclivities  for  life  saving,  and  a  capacity  for  friendship 
with  man. 

In  the  matter  of  strength,  Hannah's  four-footed  compan- 
ion was  worthy  of  its  name.  Like  the  master  of  the  settle- 
ment he  was  getting  on  in  years,  and  curiously  enough  had 
recently  seemed  a  little  unsettled  as  to  the  prospects  of  the 
country.  At  least  Pat  Doolan  said  so;  but  this  was  only 
said  in  confidence  to  Sally,  and  it  might  have  been  one  of 
Pat's  subtle  jokes.  You  should  have  seen  him  when  he 
was  engaged  in  composing  his  bits  of  waggery  for  the 
behoof  of  Sally  or  the  delectation  of  the  men  down  at  the 
fish  warehouses  or  the  stages ;  his  small  eyes  would  fairly 
sparkle  beneath  their  gray  brows,  and  his  mouth  would 
twist  into  curious  shapes,  intended  to  signify  the  extra  value 
he  attached  to  any  particular  statement  he  was  about  to 
make,  or  the  fun  of  which  was,not  to  be  controlled. 

Pat  was  a  thickset,  short,  stumpy  fellow,  with  a  closely 
cropped  head,  big  feet,  a  beard  that  tried  to  hide  itself  in 
his  neck,  encouraged  thereto  by  the  razor  which  he  used 
every  morning  upon  his  chin  and  upper  lip.  He  had  a 
ruddy  complexion,  and  even  in  his  silent  moments  his  lips 
were  generally  busy  twitching  in  sympathy  with  the  varied 
thoughts  that  were  working  within  his  inner  consciousness. 
•  He  had  been  in  his  time  pretty  well  everything  that  belongs 
to  the  sea  and  seafaring,  not  to  mention  powder  monkey, 
cook,  and  lastly  boatswain  to  the  master  when  the  master 
had  sailed  his  own  ships  to  the  chief  port  of  New  England 
with  fish,  bringing  back  commodities  for  St.  John's,  even 


52  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

on  one  occasion  crossing  the  Atlantic  and  casting  anchor  in 
the  port  of  Dartmouth,  which  had  now  the  unenviable 
notoriety  of  counting  among  its  seafaring  folk  the  Fishing 
Admirals  Ristack  and  Ruddock. 

Old  Sampson,  with  his  ragged  black-and-white  coat,  was 
lying  at  Hannah's  feet,  while  she  sat  upon  a  low  stool  by 
Alan,  her  head  on  his  knee,  her  thoughts  running  with  his, 
and  his  full  of  reminiscences  of  his  three  years  at  Heart's 
Delight. 

"I  mind  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  ye,"  said  Alan,  strok- 
ing her  thick  hair  with  his  great  brown  hand,  "I  landed 
from  the  first  ship  that  sailed  in  that  season.  It  was  The 
Hope,  frae  Yarmouth.  The  master  was  a  Scotchman, 
hailin'  frae  Glasgae.  When  I  strode  up  into  the  village  I 
saw  ye  standing  i'  the  porch  o'  yer  father's  house,  the  bon- 
niest picter  I'd  ever  set  eyes  on.  Eh,  but  ye  were,  Han- 
nah! Ye  just  completely  dazed  me;  ye  did  that!" 

"Alan!"  said  Hannah,  putting  her  white  hand  above  her 
head  to  touch  his  that  caressed  her  brown  hair  all  the  time 
he  was  speaking. 

"It's  true,  Hannah,  my  lassie;  and  though  I  concluded 
not  to  return  in  The  Hope  and  not  to  go  back  to  Perth, 
which  was  my  intention  after  I'd  made  Yarmouth — for  there 
was  a  fellow  there  that  sailed  'twixt  that  and  Glasgae — I'd 
nae  mair  courage  to  speak  to  ye  than  if  ye'd  been  just  an 
angel  frae  heaven!" 

"Alan,"  said  Hannah,  "you  always  exaggerate  your 
want  of  courage  in  those  days." 

"Nae,  not  one  iota,  Hannah.     I  was  just  skeered  at  ye." 

"Nay,  Alan  dear,  not  scared." 

"I  was  most  assuredly  reight  down  skeered;  eh!  but 
Hannah,  I  did  love  ye!" 

"I  know  it,  dear;  but  I  loved  you,  too,  but  yet  I  did  not 
feel  like  that." 

"Like  what,  my  sweet  lassie?" 


WOMAN'S  INSTINCT.  53 

"Afraid.  Nor  did  I  wish  to  make  you  scared.  I 
remember  as  if  it  was  yesterday,  when  my  father  brought 
you  home  to  the  Great  House,  that  I  was  bent  on  making 
you  feel  very  much  at  home  and  very  content." 

"Eh!  but  ye  were  awfu'  kind  tome,  Hannah.  It  was 
then  that  I  telt  your  father  I  had  made  things  straight  for 
staying  at  Heart's  Delight  until  the  next  fishing.  He  was 
curious  to  know  if  I  had  arranged  it  wi'  the  admiral,  and 
I  telt  him  yes,  that  the  master  was  a  countryman,  and  knew 
my  father  in  Perth." 
•  "My  father  liked  you  from  the  first,  Alan." 

"Did  he  noo?  Weel,  that's  as  precious  as  a  gude  char- 
acter frae  the  provost  o'  Perth.  I  wouldna  change  it  for  a 
medal." 

"You  were  afraid  of  me  a  very  long  time,  were  you  not, 
Alan?" 

"That  was  I,  indeed,"  said  Alan,  "ye  seemed  something 
sae  far  beyond  me;  and  sae  ye  are." 

"Nay,  Alan,  you  only  think  that  because  ye  love  me,  and 
if  ye  had  loved  in  moderation  we  might  have  been  married, 
eh,  I  don't  know  how  many  months  sooner  than  we  were." 

"I  ken  how  gude  ye  are  to  me,  how  much  ye  love  me 
when  ye  say  that,  Hannah;  but  ye  will  allow  [here  he 
chuckled — it  was  nearly  a  laugh]  that  when  I  had  yer 
consent  I  made  short  work  aboot  askin'  ye  to  fix  the  very 
next  day  for  the  weddin'." 

"Yes,  truly,"  said  Hannah,  laughing  in  her  turn,  "a 
little  encouragement  soon  made  a  man  of  you." 

"Eh!  it  did  that;  I  could  a'most  greet  to  think  what 
would  'a'  come  o'  me  if  ye  hadna  ta'en  pity  on  me." 

"Pity!"  said  Hannah;  "I  loved  you  all  the  time;  loved 
you  then  as  I  do  now;  and  I  love  you  to-day,  if  it  were 
possible,  more  than  ever  for  the  kind  and  thoughtful  way  in 
which  you  have  acted  in  this  trouble  of  Heart's  Delight; 
you  made  a  sacrifice  of  feeling  and  pride;  Alan,  that  is  the 


54  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

sweetest,  the  noblest  tribute  you  could  pay  to  me,  and  the 
best  thing  you  could  do  for  our  little  David.  All  the 
women  in  the  village  love  you  to-day;  God  bless  them  and 
you  for  it!" 

"My  dear  little  wife,"  said  Alan,  "there  is  naething  ye 
could  ask  me  I  wouldna  do  for  ye;  but  you  mak  too  much 
of  this  day's  business.  I  would  tae  God  we  could  hae  been 
left  i'  peace  for  a'  that!" 

Just  then  Sampson  sniffed  the  air  and  growled, 

"Why,  what's  the  matter!"  said  Alan,  patting  the  dog's 
head. 

Sampson,  pushing  his  wet  nose  into  Alan's  hand,  got  up 
to  rub  his  rough  sides  against  Hannah  in  token  of  his 
double  affection,  his  divided  allegiance. 

"Yes,"  said  Hannah,  as  if  answering  what  the  dog  must 
be  thinking;  "yes,  we  know;  good  old  dog!" 

Sampson  gave  a  short  bark  of  pleasure :  but  it  was  quickly 
followed  by  another  low  growl  of  alarm.  He  walked  about 
the  room  uncomfortably,  sniffing  the  air,  and  once  bending 
his  head  down  by  the  inner  door  of  the  porch. 

"The  puir  beast  knows  we  are  aboot  to  quit,  I  mak  nae 
doubt,"  said  Alan,  watching  him. 

"He  is  growing  old,"  Hannah  replied,  "and  with  age 
comes  what  father  calls  intuitive  knowledge.  He  has 
often  told  me  that  instinct  in  age  takes  the  place  of  knowl- 
edge; he  always  feels  in  advance  the  coming  of  joy  or 
sorrow." 

Alan  generally  grew  silent  and  reflective  when  Hannah 
began  to  tark  in  what  he  called  her  wise  and  learned  way. 
She  had  had  a  far  better  education  than  Alan,  whose  train- 
ing had  not  been  through  books  or  at  schools,  except  such 
books  as  treated  of  navigation,  and  such  schools  as  had 
mere  experience  for  schoolmasters.  Hannah  had  always 
had  the  advantage  of  the  education  that  priests  can  give; 
watched  over  by  her  father,  who  was  a  man  of  some  learn- 


WOMAN'S  INSTINCT.  55 

ing.  Alan  often  had  sat  and  wondered  at  the  strange 
knowledge  which  Hannah  possessed  relating  to  all  manner 
of  curious  things,  historical  and  otherwise.  She  and  Father 
Lavello  and  the  master  would,  on  winter  evenings,  discuss 
questions  of  travel  and  discovery,  even  matters  of  science 
and  works  of  art  which  Hannah  had  not  seen  or  was  ever 
likely  to;  but  the  young  priest  would  describe  the  great 
pictures  of  Florence  and  Venice,  and  the  treasures  of 
Rome;  and  Hannah  would  look  at  Alan  and  wonder  if  they 
would  ever  see  these  classic  treasures. 

On  this  memorable  night  before  the  exodus  of  Heart's 
Delight,  Hannah  seemed  to  Alan  to  be  full  of  wisdom 
beyond  woman.  "I  sometimes  think,"  she  said,  "that 
God  also  gives  to  a  mother  knowledge  of  things  that  is 
beyond  books  and  teaching.  Her  love  becomes  her  intelli- 
gence; her  devotion,  inspiration.  I  somehow  knew  to-day, 
Alan,  that  your  love  would  hold  your  manhood  in  check; 
that  you  would  keep  a  calm,  unruffled  front  to  the  most 
irritating  opposition.  At  the  same  time  there  entered  into 
my  mind  a  keen  sense  of  regret  that  we  had  not  taken  our 
dear  father's  instinct  of  trouble  to  heart,  and  sailed  away 
to  the  old  country  on  the  very  day  when  we  married." 

There  were  tears  in  Hannah's  voice  as  she  uttered  these 
last  words,  and  Alan  put  his  great  strong  arms  about  her, 
soothingly,  as  he  asked,  "Would  ye  prefer  that  we  do  so 
now,  Hannah?" 

"If  it  were  possible,"  she  replied. 

"Anything  is  possible  that  ye  wish,"  Alan  answered 
softly. 

"I  have  no  wish  that  is  not  yours,  Alan." 

"And  I  nane  that  isna  yours." 

"But  your  faith  in  the  future  of  this  place  is  so  strongly 
fixed!" 

"It  was,  dear;  I  don't  say  it  isna  now;  but  what  is  that 
against  your  desire?" 


56  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"My  father,  I  think,  longs  for  an  abiding  place  in  the 
old  home  of  his  fathers.  He  so  often  talks  of  it  now.  But 
Father  Lavello  says  that  comes  with  age,  the  memory  of 
our  youth  is  intensified.  Don't  you  observe  that  father 
continually  talks  of  his  father,  and  what  his  father  told  him 
of  Dartmouth  and  Bideford,  of  the  famous  pioneers,  the 
busy  ships  with  news  from  distant  seas,  the  quiet  homes, 
the  rights  to  sow  and  reap  without  question,  and  every 
man's  house  his  castle?" 

"Why,  ye  talk  like  ye  might  hae  seen  the  auld  country 
yersel,  Hannah." 

"I  have  seen  it  in  my  dreams,"  she  answered,  "but  it's 
too  late,  I  fear,  to  see  it  in  very  truth." 

"Nae,  it's  nane  too  late,  my  lassie.  It  wouldna  be  reight 
to  desert  the  neebors  and  bairns  just  noo;  but  when  the 
settlement  is  once  mair  in  some  kind  o'  shape,  and  ye  still 
desire  it,  with  the  master  we'll  tak  ship  for  the  auld  coun- 
try, and  welcome,  Hannah.  If  Newfoundland  is  to  con- 
tinue under  the  heels  of  these  licensed  freebooters,  weel 
then,  the  sooner  we're  out  o'  it  the  better." 

"Dear  Alan,  does  your  heart  or  your  head  speak  in  that 
sentiment?" 

"Baith,  my  darlin',  baith.  It  greets  me  sair  to  think  o' 
the  hairdships  we're  embarkin'  on,  gaeing  out  o'  the  village 
to  seek  a  new  restin'  place — not  that  the  Back  Bay  Valley 
isna  delightfu',  that  it  just  is.  D'ye  nae  mind  the  ride  we 
had  ae  day  in  the  autumn,  and  ye  ran  aboot  like  a  bairn 
gathering  the  flowers?  We  hadna  been  married  more  than  a 
month." 

"Yes,  I  remember  of  course,  dear,"  said  Hannah,  "but 
I  don't  sec  in  my  memory  the  place  you  elect  for  the  new 
settlement." 

"Eh,  it's  just  grand!  I'm  thinking  we  didna  ride  quite 
sae  far  as  the  bito'  pine  forests — it's  at  the  back  o'  that;  wi' 
a  fine  stream  o'  pure  water,  a  sloping  bank  o'  grass,  a  long 


WOMAN'S  INSTINCT.  57 

level  o'  natural  meadow,  and  soil  fit  for  a  garden.  I  ken 
the  very  spot  where  ye  shall  sleep  to-morrow  neight;  I  can 
tell  ye,  Hannah,  that  it's  as  easy  as  anything  ye  can  think 
on  to  mak  a  tent  just  that  comfortable  ye  wouldna  imagine 
ye  werena  in  a  regular  built  and  calked  hoose.  Ye'll  hae 
the  shade  o'  the  trees  and  the  modified  heat  o'  the  sun;  and 
for  the  neight  ye'll  hae  a  bed  o'  skins  and  sheets  and  a'  the 
comforts  ye  are  possessed  o'  just  here  in  Heart's  Delight. 
And  I'm  thinkin'  we'll  ca'  the  place  Heart's  Content,  eh?" 

"Yes,"  said  Hannah;  "Heart's  Delight  was  heart's 
delight;  but  losing  that  Heart's  Content  comes  next.  Yes, 
Alan,  it  is  a  beautiful  idea  and  has  an  inspiration  of  submit- 
ting to  Providence;  but  with  you,  dear,  every  place  would 
be  Heart's  Content  for  me." 

A  low  growl,  as  if  by  way  of  protest,  came  from  Sampson, 
who  was  now  standing  in  a  watchful  attitude  by  the  door. 

"Eh,  man,  what's  wrang?"  said  Alan,  addressing  the 
dog. 

Sampson  came  from  the  door  and  leaped  upon  his 
master,  planting  his  great  paws  upon  his  chest  and  whining 
as  if  he  would  speak. 

"What  is  it?     Some  puir  deevil  wants  shelter,  or  what?" 

The  dog  leaped  down  and  stood  once  more  by  the  door, 
watchful  and  angry. 

"Don't  go  out,  Alan;  it  is  some  enemy,  I  feel  sure," 
said  Hannah. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  dog  seemed  to  encourage  Alan  to 
open  the  door.  He  showed  his  teeth,  fell  to  heel,  growled, 
and  was  impatient.  The  poor  beast  was  conscious  of  his 
strength,  and  did  not  understand  that  there  might  be  danger 
still  for  Hannah  and  Alan,  although  he  was  there  to  protect 
them. 

The  dog  now  suddenly  dashed  toward  the  inner  chamber 
where  little  David  was  sleeping,  then  bounded  to  the  win- 
dow, and  finally  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  bewildered. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    CRUEL    CONSPIRACY. 

"THERE  are  men  about  the  house,"  said  Hannah,  in  a 
whisper. 

"Our  neebors  passin'  by,  wi*  their  goods  and  chattels  to 
be  ready  for  the  morrow,  perhaps;  somethin'  unusual  in 
Sampson's  experience;  that's  it,  auld  friend,  eh?" 

Sampson  wagged  his  tail  for  a  moment  by  way  of  answer, 
and  once  more  stood  sentinel  by  the  door. 

"It  is  a  very  dark  night,"  said  Hannah,  "and  I'm  afraid; 
it  may  be  that  those  cruel  men  are  back  again  from  their 
ships." 

"Nae,  dinna  fear  that,"  Alan  replied;  "they  hae  gien  us 
twenty-four  hours,  and  it's  rather  to  catch  us  in  the  toils  o' 
some  illegal  act  than  to  put  theirsel's  i'  the  wrang  they'll  be 
scheming;  I  dinna  fear  their  presence,  my  lassie,  until  to- 
morrow at  sunset;  and  then,  please  God,  we'll  be  cookin' 
our  evening  meal  beneath  the  pines  o'  Heart's  Content." 

"Don't  go  out,  dear,"  said  Hannah,  clinging  to  his  arm. 

The  dog  walked  quietly  to  the  window,  then  sniffed  at 
the  further  door,  and  with  a  grumble  followed  Hannah  and 
Alan  to  the  old  cushioned  settle  by  the  fireplace,  and  once 
more  disposed  himself  in  a  picturesque  attitude  at  Han- 
nah's feet. 

"Good  dog!"  she  said,  "yes,  the  bad  men  are  gone;  and 
I  pray  God  we  may  hear  no  more  of  them  until  it  is  day- 
light, when  we  can  see  their  faces." 

"Hannah,  you  are  trembling  as  if  you  had  seen  a 
ghost." 

58 


A  CRUEL  CONSPIRACY.  59 

"Those  men  from  the  ships  are  about,  I  feel  sure  they 
are,  and  for  no  good.' 

"Nae,  dinna  fear;  I  am  inclined  to  think  ye  are  reight; 
Pat  Doolan,  by  way  of  bravado,  said  somethin'  aboot  turn- 
ing the  two  wee  guns  upon  the  ships.  The  man  Ristack  is 
a  great  coward,  and  may  be  he  would  think  it  safe  to  dis- 
mantle the  fort  until  such  time  as  the  removal  o'  Heart's 
Delight  is  accomplished." 

"Thank  God,  they  are  no  longer  near  our  doors!"  said 
Hannah,  as  Sampson  seemed  to  be  settling  himself  down 
more  and  more  steadily  to  sleep.  The  old  clock  in  the 
living  room  of  the  Great  House  could  now  be  heard,  as  if 
afar  off,  striking  the  hour  of  ten;  it  was  very  late  for 
Heart's  Delight.  The  note  of  time  was  echoed  by  a  small 
timepiece  in  the  annex  which  the  Keiths  had  called  their 
own  domicile. 

"Time's  gettin'  on,"  said  Alan;  "how  quiet  it  all  is!" 

"Yes,"  said  Hannah,  laying  her  head  upon  his  shoulder, 
as  they  sat  side  by  side  on  the  settle. 

"It  will  be  quiet  in  the  Back  Bay  Valley,"  said  Alan; 
"there  ye  dinna  hear  the  sea;  but  the  trees  mak  a  music  o' 
their  ain,  which  isna  much  different." 

"The  sea  is  very  calm  to-night,"  said  Hannah. 

"Not  a  ripple  on  it,"  Alan  replied,  "and  to  think  o'  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  lettin'  yonder  pirate  ships  ride  at  anchor  as 
if  they  were  on  some  landlocked  mere;  eh,  Hannah,  I  ken 
a  wonderfu'  place,  where  a  man  o'  war  might  sleep  at 
anchor  while  the  sea  was  ragin'." 

"The  secret  harbor  you  talk  of  in  Labrador?" 

"Yes." 

"But  a  terrible  coast  thereabouts,  Alan.  The  sailors  see 
demons  there;  and  it  was  tabooed  even  in  the  earliest  times 
when  the  natives  roamed  this  island  from  end  to  end." 

"It's  a  wonderfu'  harbor;  it's  a  dock  made  by  nature;  a 
sort  of  hide-and-seek  for  mariners.  One  day,  when  it's  very 


60  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

calm  weather,  as  the  noo,  we'll  just  sail  down  the  coast  and 
I'll  show  you  the  way;  ye  would  think  there  wasna  chan- 
nel enough  for  a  dingey,  but  there's  a  channel  that  would 
float  a  three-decker;  a  waterway  as  gude  as  the  entrance  to 
St.  John's,  but  it's  disguised.  Eh,  ye  canna  guess  how  safe 
it's  disguised." 

They  did  Sampson  an  injustice  to  think  he  was  sleeping. 
He  had  gathered  that  Hannah  did  not  want  the  door 
opened.  He  knew  that  the  men  who  had  been  prowling 
without  had  left  the  immediate  locality  of  the  house;  but 
he  did  not  know  that  they  had  only  gone  down  to  the  beach 
to  take  council  once  more  by  the  boats.  Bentz  and  Rud- 
dock had  heard  Sampson's  growl;  also  the  voice  of  Alan. 
They  had  hoped  to  find  all  abed,  both  in  the  Great  House 
and  the  annex.  They  had  now  to  revise  their  plans,  in 
presence  of  a  watchful  dog,  and  a  strong  and  wakeful 
opponent. 

"Jim  Smith,"  said  Ruddock,  "Admiral  Ristack  has 
trusted  you  with  the  command  of  this  thing;  I  am  only  a 
volunteer.  It's  naught  to  do  with  my  ship;  it's  Admiral 
Ristack 's  affair,  and  you  are  his  representative,  and,  there- 
fore, mind  ye,  on  this  occasion  you  carry  the  authority  of 
the  King  himself." 

"Very  well,"  said  Smith,  "I  am  ready  to  do  my  duty,  if 
I  am  rightly  supported." 

"Ye  needna  question  that,"  said  one  of  the  crew.  "If 
we  dinna  think  much  of  our  leader,  we  hae  undertaken  the 
job;  and  they  say  duty's  duty  at  all  times." 

"Aye,  aye!"  said  the  others. 

"Then,"  continued  Ruddock,  "my  advice  and  that  also 
of  this  loyal  man,  Master  Lester  Bentz,  is  that  one  of  you 
have  a  knife  handy  for  the  dog,  and  the  others  crowd  all 
sail  on  Keith  and  secure  him  at  any  risk,  dead  or  alive; 
alive  if  possible,  and  gagged;  eh,  Master  Bentz?" 

"Just  so,"  said  Bentz. 


A  CRUEL  CONSPIRACY.  6 1 

"I  shall  try  a  subterfuge,"  said  Smith. 

"May  a  man  ask  what  a  subterfuge  may  be?"  said  Don- 
ald Nicol,  who  was  a  very  matter-of-fact  Scotchman. 

"Knocking  at  the  door  and  begging  for  assistance,  as  if 
a  body  was  in  trouble;  or  say  the  fish  stages  are  afire;  or 
what  you  will." 

"And  then?"  asked  Ruddock. 
.     "Well,  the  moment  he  shows  himself,  seize  him." 

"And  the  dog?"  asked  Bentz,  who  had  seen  Sampson's 
teeth  more  than  once. 

"Mardyke  undertakes  the  dog,  with  ten  inches  of  cold 
steel." 

"That's  right,"  said  Mardyke. 

"For  which  duty,  well  performed,"  said  Bentz,  "I,  as  a 
volunteer,  am  willing  to  pay  out  five  golden  guineas." 

"Consider  that  dog  dead,"  said  Mardyke. 

"Well,  then,  we  are  agreed,"  said  Smith;  "march,  and 
take  your  orders  from  me." 

"Aye,  aye!"  responded  the  men. 

"And  no  one  speak  above  a  whisper." 

"Aye,  aye!"  was  the  prompt  reply,  and  in  less  than  half 
an  hour  Sampson,  at  the  moment  when  Alan  and  Hannah 
had  resolved  to  retire,  once  more  showed  signs  of  uneasi- 
ness, and  at  one  bound,  with  a  great  loud  bay,  rushed  to 
the  door. 

"What  is  it?"  exclaimed  Alan,  following  the  dog,  Han- 
nah clinging  to  her  husband's  arm. 

"A  man  in  distress!"  said  a  voice  from  without 
"wounded — dying — help!  help!" 

"Don't  go  out!"  Hannah  whispered,  as  Alan  unbarred 
the  door. 

The  dog  crouched  at  Alan's  heels,  ready  to  spring. 

"Oh,"  groaned  the  voice  outside,  "don't  leave  me  to 
die!" 

Alan  opened  the  door. 


62  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

As  he  did  so  he  was  attacked  by  half  a  dozen  men  before 
he  could  strike  a  blow  in  self-defense.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment, Ruddock  and  Bentz  rushed  upon  Hannah,  fastened 
her  apron  over  her  head  and  smothered  her  cries. 

The  attack  was  so  sudden  and  complete  that  hardly  a 
sound  was  heard  beyond  the  first  grating  bark  and  growl  of 
the  dog,  as  he  leaped  at  the  throat  of  the  very  man  who, 
unfortunately,  was  best  prepared  for  the  assault. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAT    DOOLAN    TO    THE    RESCUE. 

PAT  DOOLAN  slept  in  a  hammock  of  his  own  construction 
in  a  cabin  of  the  Great  House,  not  far  from  the  master's 
room.  He  had  been  swinging  about  uncomfortably, 
harassed  by  troublous  dreams,  for  some  little  time  before 
he  awoke  with  a  groan,  conscious  that  something  was 
wrong.  He  peered  out  into  the  night.  There  were  shad- 
owy forms  moving  about  near  the  house. 

Pushing  open  his  cabin  window,  that  was  formed  like  a 
porthole,  he  heard  mutterings,  and  now  decidedly  a  smoth- 
ered scream.  He  slipped  into  his  breeches,  dragged  his 
big  boots  upon  his  big  feet,  fastened  his  belt  about  his 
waist,  thrust  a  couple  of  pistols  into  it,  gripped  a  short 
hard  stick,  and  sallied  forth. 

First  he  went  into  the  master's  room,  the  door  of  which 
was  always  left  ajar,  awoke  him  with  the  information  that 
something  bad  was  afoot,  and  then  going  out  into  the  night, 
made  for  the  door  of  Keith's  part  of  the  Great  House. 

Arrived  in  front  of  the  little  <porch  of  the  Keith  annex, 
he  fell  over  the  dead  body  of  the  dog  Sampson  and 
stumbled  through  the  open  door  into  the  room  where  Rud- 
dock and  Lester  Bentz  had  bound  Mrs.  Keith,  and  just  at 
the  moment  when  they  were  having  trouble  in  the  next 
room  with  Sally  Mumford.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  con- 
dition of  Mrs.  Keith,  who  was  lying  by  the  settle,  gagged, 
but  Sally  was  proclaiming  her  woes  with  unmistakable 
vigor.  She  had  been  awakened  to  meet  the  gaze  of  a 
couple  of  ruffians  who  had  turned  a  dark  lantern  upon  her; 
for  what  villainy  she  did  not  know,  but  of  course  it  was 
nothing  short  of  murder. 


64  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"Have  at  ye,  ye  bastes  of  prey!"  exclaimed  Pat,  dashing 
to  her  assistance. 

In  a  moment,  with  his  short  bit  of  timber,  a  souvenir  of 
the  old  country,  he  had  felled  first  one  and  then  the  other 
of  the  two  intruders. 

"Surrender!"  he  went  on,  planting  his  right  foot  upon 
one  and  dominating  the  other  with  his  cudgel,  "surrender, 
or  begorra  yoor  dead  men;  and  begorra  I  think  ye  are 
whether  ye  surrender  or  not." 

Here  he  picked  up  a  dark  lantern  which  one  of  them  had 
dropped,  and  turned  it  upon  the  two  marauders. 

"Oh,  it's  naybor  Bentz,  and  one  o*  they  thaving 
admirals,  is  it?  Sure  ye're  a  mighty  fine  brace  o'  black- 
guards, that  ye  are,  to  disturb  inoffensive  settlers  in  the 
middle  ov  God's  blessed  night!  Lie  still  where  ye  are  while 
I  disarm  ye,  or  be  jabers  I'll  blow  ye  both  to  the  devil!" 

Pat  stooped  over  them,  took  away  their  weapons,  which 
he  stuffed  into  his  own  belt,  and  then  addressed  Sally. 

"Sure  and  ye  are  quite  safe,  Mistress  Sally;  get  up  wid 
ye  and  light  the  candles;  I'll  turn  my  back  while  ye  put  on 
your  ball  dress  and  make  your  twylet.  Don't  whimper, 
Master  David,  it's  all  right;  Pat  Doolan's  be  your  side." 

The  child  had  uttered  a  little  cry,  but  was  hushed  back 
to  sleep  by  Sally,  while  she  pulled  the  curtain  about  her 
and  put  on  her  things.  Ruddock  and  Bentz  meanwhile 
thought  it  good  policy  to  remain  quiet,  in  the  hope  that 
their  comrades,  missing  them,  would  return  and  call  them 
to  the  boats. 

At  this  juncture  the  master  entered  the  front  room  with  a 
lantern.  Glancing  about  the  place  he  saw  Hannah,  and 
released  her.  "Great  Heavens,  what  has  happened?"  he 
asked. 

Hannah  could  not  answer  him.  He  had  raised  her  up. 
She  fell  into  his  arms. 

"Are  you  hurt,  my  darling?"  he  asked,  fondling  her. 


PA  T  DOOLAN   TO    THE  RESCUE.  65 

"No,"  she  whispered.     She  could  only  speak  in  whispers. 

"Who  has  done  this  thing?     Where  is  Alan?" 

"Alan,"  she  whispered,  "has  gone." 

"Where,  my  love,  where?" 

"They  have  killed  him,"  she  said,  and  relaxing  her  hold 
upon  her  father  would  have  slipped  to  the  ground,  but  for 
the  strong  arm  he  had  wound  about  her  waist. 

"Hannah,  don't  give  way;  be  brave;  be  strong.  Tellme, 
dear,  what  has  happened?" 

But  Hannah  was  speechless.  He  laid  her  upon  the  win- 
dow seat,  and  looked  about  for  water,  found  a  jug,  bathed 
her  face,  and  she  revived. 

"I  am  better,"  she  whispered,  half  rising. 

Then  Pat  Doolan's  voice  was  heard  in  the  next  room 
saying,  "Now,  Sally,  go  and  see  about  the  misthress;  where 
is  she?  That's  right,  give  us  light;  oh,  ye  cursed  villains!" 

Before  the  master  had  made  a  step  toward  the  next  room 
the  front  door  was  filled  with  sailors.  "Admiral  Rud- 
dock," said  the  spokesman,  "are  you  here?" 

"Yes,"  shouted  Ruddock  from  the  next  room,  "I'm  a 
prisoner;  release  me!" 

"Bring  in  your  lantern,"  said  the  spokesman,  addressing 
someone  outside. 

A  sailor,  armed  to  the  teeth,  entered  with  a  ship's  lan- 
tern. The  spokesman  signed  for  the  man  to  advance,  and 
for  another  to  support  him  with  his  cutlass.  The  master 
stood  by  Hannah,  who  had  once  more  risen  to  her  feet. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked. 

"Begorra,  that's  the  masther!"  exclaimed  Pat  from 
the  next  room.  "Sure,  sorr,  we're  all  right,  and  little 
David's  all  right.  And,  by  the  holy  St.  Patrick,  the  man 
that  puts  his  snout  in  here,  I'll  blow  his  head  off!  I  mane 
it,  be  me  sowl ! ' ' 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  The  click  of  Pat's  pistols  was 
heard  distinctly. 


66  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"O  Pat,  dear!"  said  Sally,  half  pleading,  half  admir- 
ing. 

"It's  a  thrue  bill,  s'help  me,  be  jabers!"  said  Pat. 

"We  only  want  our  comrades;  we  intend  no  harm;  our 
work  is  accomplished,"  said  the  spokesman. 

"Indade  and  is  it?"  said  Pat.  "I  can't  say  as  much  for 
myself,  then." 

'  'What  was  your  work,  may  I  ask,  besides  having  gagged 
and  bound  my  daughter,  villain?"  asked  the  master. 

"  We  have  done  her  no  other  harm  ;  it  was  necessary 
that  she  should  be  prevented  from  crying  out." 

"  You  scoundrel  !  "  exclaimed  the  master. 

"  Nay,  I  did  not  do  it,"  said  the  spokesman,  "  but  it  had 
to  be  done,  I  suppose,  and  there's  an  end  of  it.  Come 
forth,  admiral,  and  you,  Master  Bentz." 

"  Come  to  our  rescue,"  cried  Ruddock,  "  there's  a  pistol 
at  our  heads." 

"  Pistol,  by  St.  Patrick,  there's  two  ;  and  if  the  murder- 
ing gang  don't  disperse  off  the  face  av  the  earth  before  I 
count  three  I'll  shoot  your  ugly  faces  into  a  jelly  !  " 

Here  Sally,  with  little  David  in  her  arms,  rushed  out  of 
the  room,  and  the  next  moment  the  child  was  in  its  mother's 
arms,  though  they  clutched  it  with  a  weak  and  faltering 
embrace. 

"  Permit  our  comrades  their  freedom,"  said  Smith,  "  and 
that  is  all  we  require.  Our  work  is  done." 

"  Master,  what'll  I  do  ?  Give  me  orders  to  execute  the 
villains." 

"  You  will  answer  my  questions  and  leave  this  house 
without  further  molestation,  your  comrades  being  released  ? " 
said  Plympton,  addressing  the  spokesman. 

"  We  will,"  said  the  spokesman. 

"  Are  you  here  with  authority?" 

"  Yes,  the  authority  of  the  Admiral  of  the  Fleet,  and  with 
a  force  sufficient  for  the  release  of  our  comrades." 


PA  T  DOOLAN   TO    THE  RESCUE.  67 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  fair-spoken  man.  I  take  your  word. 
Pat  !  " 

"  Yessorr  !  " 

"  Release  the  brave  gentlemen." 

"  Yessorr  !  My  brave  gallants,  with  your  great  souls,  get 
up  vvid  ye  !  " 

Mr.  Bentz  and  Admiral  Ruddock  came  forth. 

"  Thank  the  boy  for  your  lives,"  said  the  master,  address- 
ing them  as  Pat  stepped  out  by  their  side. 

"  I'll  none  av  their  thanks,  master  ;  the  hangman  will 
take  care  av  them  when  it  comes  to  his  turn." 

"  Smith,  you  will  find  us  at  the  boats,"  said  Ruddock, 
arranging  his  ruffled  plumes,  and  making  for  the  door, 
Bentz  after  him,  Pat  half-tempted  to  empty  his  pistols  into 
them,  as  the  spokesman  made  way  for  them.  Hannah 
bent  weeping  over  little  David,  Sally  sitting  by  her  side 
and  stroking  her  hair. 

"  I  am  sorry  the  young  woman  and  the  child  have  been 
disturbed,"  said  Smith.  "  I  don't  know  why  it  was  con- 
sidered necessary." 

"  And  what  authority  could  have  justified  an  attack  upon 
this  lady  ?" 

"  That  you  must  ask  my  betters,"  said  Smith.  "  We  had 
orders  to  make  an  arrest,  which  I  presume  she  resisted." 

"  What  arrest  ?  Nay,  you  need  not  say,  since  I  find  this 
poor  child's  husband  absent.  What  has  happened  to 
him  !  " 

"  No  harm,"  said  the  spokesman. 

"  Oh,  thank  God,"  whispered  Hannah  hoarsely.  "  O 
Alan,  Alan  !  " 

"  He  is  under  arrest,"  continued  the  spokesman, 
"  charged  with  rebellion  against  his  Majesty  the  King,  and 
other  crimes." 

"  Yes  ? "  said  the  master,  suppressing  his  anxiety  and 
indignation  ;  "  and  where  is  he  ? " 


68  UNDER  THE  GKEA  T  SEAL. 

"  By  this  time  he  is  011  board  the  vessel  of  the  Admiral 
of  the  Fleet." 

"  Merciful  Heavens  ! "  exclaimed  Hannah,  looking  up 
with  wild  eyes  and  blanched  face. 

"  Comfort  ye,  lady,"  said  one  of  the  ship's  men,  Donald 
Nicol,  who  had  stood  near  the  spokesman  during  the  brief 
colloquy  with  Plympton,  "  your  gudeman  isna  wi'oot 
friends." 

"  Donald  Nicol,"  said  Smith,  turning  upon  the  speaker, 
"  I  would  have  you  understand  there  is  only  one  spokes- 
man here." 

"  I  amna  sae  sure  o'  that,"  said  the  other  ;  "  there's  nae 
a  man  present  whose  gotten  a  heart  in  his  breast  that 
wouldna  like  to  say  a  kind  word  o'  hope  to  Alan  Keith's 
young  wife." 

"  Whatever  reparation  in  the  way  of  explanation  was 
necessary  has  been  made,  and  that's  the  end  of  it,  Nicol," 
said  the  spokesman. 

"  Dinna  ye  think  I'm  a  log  wi'oot  a  heart  or  a  free  voice, 
Jim  Smith,"  Nicol  replied.  "  Master  Plympton,  I  tell  ye, 
we're  sorry,  me  an'  my  mates,  that  the  gude  lady  has  been 
put  aboot,  and,  if  I'm  yardarmed  for  it,  that's  what  I've  got- 
ten to  say  ! " 

"  And  me,"  said  a  red-bearded  fellow-countryman  of 
Nicol's.  » 

"  So  say  we  all  of  us,  by  God  ! "  exclaimed  another, 
which  drew  forth  a  hearty  response  of  "  Aye-ayes." 

"  Men  of  the  admiral's  ship,"  said  Smith,  red  with  rage, 
"attention  !  " 

The  men  fell  together. 

"  Right  about.     March  !  " 

The  men  filed  out,  Smith  at  their  head. 

"  Pat,  get  some  brandy  from  the  liquor  cupboard,"  said 
the  master. 

"  Yes,  yer  honor,"  said  Pat. 


PAT  DOOLAN   TO    THE  RESCUE.  69 

"  Sally,  put  your  mistress  to  bed." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Sally,  taking  the  child  from  Hannah's 
arms  and  retiring  with  it  to  her  own  room. 

"Ah,  bless  it,  it's  a  good  bairn  ;  it  knows  it's  safe  with 
its  Sally  ;  bless  its  brave  heart,  it  will  lie  quiet  and  go  to 
sleep." 

Sally  was  heard  cooing  over  her  charge  for  several  min- 
utes before  she  returned. 

"  My  dear  Hannah,  it's  a  sad  business,  but  you  must  not 
give  way.  I  know  what  you  feel,  but  we'll  soon  have  Alan 
back,  never  fear  ;  keep  a  good  heart  for  his  sake  and  for 
mine." 

Hannah  began  to  cry  for  the  first  time. 

"  It  is  very  hard,  I  know,  but  we  must  be  patient." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  between  her  sobs,  "  I  am  better  now ;  I 
will  bear  up,  dear." 

"  Take  a  little  of  this,"  said  her  father,  handing  her  a 
cup  with  a  mixture  of  brandy  and  water.  "You  must, 
love  ;  it  is  the  finest  medicine  in  the  world." 

Hannah  took  the  cup  and  drank. 

"  That's  right.  Now,  Saliy,  assist  your  mistress.  You  will 
be  better  after  an  hour  or  two.  I  will  not  leave  the  house." 

"  By  jabers,  it's  true,  there's  nothing  like  it,"  said  Pat, 
helping  himself  to  a  hornful  of  the  liquor.  "  It's  mate  and 
drink  and  firearms,  sure  it  is." 

Sally  and  Hannah  disappeared,  and  the  master  and  Pat 
stood  looking  at  each  other.  "  Sure,  master,  dear,  take  a 
drink  yourself." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Pat,"  said  Plympton.  "  Sit  down.  God 
bless  you,  Pat,  for  a  stanch,  true,  and  brave  fellow !  " 

"  Brave  is  it,  wid  a  couple  of  spalpeens  that  I  could  break 
over  my  knee  ?  But  what's  to  be  done,  master?" 

"  Yes,  what's  to  be  done  ?  They  have  tied  our  hands, 
Pat ;  we  are,  indeed,  bound  hand  and  foot,  with  Alan  a 
prisoner  to  Ristack  ;  it  is  an  awful  business  !  " 


70  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  So  it  is ;  it's  just  the  darkest  hour  we've  had  at  Heart's 
Delight.  Couldn't  we  collect  a  crew  and  go  for  a  rescue  ? 
There's  the  little  fort ;  we  could  play  on  the  blackguard 
ships  and  cover  a  rescue  party." 

"  My  dear  Patrick,  one  round  from  their  long  gun  would 
settle  us,  and  what  could  we  do  with  a  half-armed  mob 
against  their  muskets  and  small  cannon  ?  No,  Pat,  we 
must  be  diplomatic  ;  we  must  negotiate,  and,  above  all,  we 
must  wait.  They  are  in  the  wrong  ;  we  must  keep  to  the 
letter  of  the  law.  Go  and  rouse  such  of  our  neighbors  as 
may  be  sleeping,  tell  them  what  has  happened,  but  without 
any  flourishes.  Tell  them  simply  that  Alan  Keith  has  been 
arrested  ;  tell  them  to  be  up  betimes  and  get  away  to  the 
Back  Bay  Valley,  so  that  we  keep  our  part  of  the  compact, 
and  leave  no  further  excuse  for  outrage.  First,  Pat,  we 
must  get  the  women  and  children  out  of  harm's  way  ;  make 
them  comfortable,  do  you  see,  with  their  own  belongings 
about  them,  and  be  clear  out  of  Heart's  Delight  within  the 
four-and-twenty  hours.  Our  friend  Preedie  knows  all 
about  Alan's  arrangements  for  the  tents  and  shelters.  God 
has  given  us  kind  weather  for  the  exodus,  and  he  will  not 
leave  us  to  the  fury  of  our  enemies." 

"  Amen  to  that  swate  hope  !  "  said  Pat. 

"  But  let  all  things  go  on  just  as  if  Alan  was  with  us." 

"  Yes,  your  honor." 

"You  understand  that?" 

"  Entirely." 

"  The  time  may  come  for  fighting,  Pat ;  I  think  it  will ; 
but  we  must  first  make  our  dispositions." 

"That's  right,"  said  Pat. 

"  Put  the  garrison  in  order." 

"  I  see,  your  honor." 

"  I  am  sure  you  do,  Pat ;  and  now  I  want  you  to  be  as 
wily  and  discreet  as  you  are  brave,  Pat." 

"  Dipind  on  me,  master ;  I'll  emulate  the  sarpent  Master 


PAT  DOOLAN   TO    THE  RESCUE.  71 

Preedie  spoke  of,  never  fear.  You  shall  find  everything  go 
just  as  smooth  as  if  Heart's  Delight  was  enjoying  itself  to 
the  bitter  end.  I  don't  mean  exactly  that,  but  as  if  we  was 
just  movin'  out  to  Paradise,  and  it  was  just  the  thing  we'd 
been  looking  to  all  our  blessed  lives." 

"  That's  what  I  wish,  Pat ;  go  now,  and  when  you  have 
seen  the  good  people  fairly  settled  at  Back  Bay  Valley, 
then,  Pat,  we  will  talk  about  fighting." 

"  Please  God,  sorr,"  said  Pat,  unbarring  the  door  and  dis- 
appearing. 

Plympton  followed  him.  "  I'll  see  you  again,  Pat,  when 
you  come  back." 

"  Right,  sorr,"  said  Pat,  his  voice  already  coming  from  a 
distance,  for  Pat  thought  he  saw  a  spy,  and  was  chasing 
him. 

'•  By  jabers,  I  must  keep  calm,"  he  said  ;  "  it's  a  diplomat 
I  am,  not  a  warrior.  Pat  !  On  guard  !  Steady  !  Stand  at 
aise  !  " 

Thus  bracing  himself  to  the  business  of  the  night,  Pat 
went  on  his  way  to  Preedie's  house,  while  Plympton,  hold- 
ing a  lantern  over  the  canine  martyr,  Sampson,  stooped  to 
pat  the  faithful  beast,  remarking  :  "  And  are  we  sure  that 
Paradise  is  meant  for  man  alone  ?  I  hope,  if  ever  I  get 
there,  dear  dead  friend,  it  may  be  good  enough  for  such  a 
true  and  loving  companion  as  thou  !  Good-night,  Sampson; 
lie  there,  old  friend,  where  you  fell  at  the  post  of  duty.  It 
will  be  a  sight  for  some  of  the  men  of  Heart's  Delight  to 
remember." 


CHAPTER  XL 

MUTINY. 

NICOL  and  his  red-bearded  fellow-countryman  disliked 
both  the  work  in  which  they  had  been  engaged  and  the 
authority  which  had  been  intrusted  to  Jim  Smith,  who 
besides  being  a  much  younger  man  than  any  of  those 
under  his  brief  command,  was  unpopular  in  the  ship,  and 
by  no  means  an  efficient  seaman.  He  could  read  and 
write  and  "sling  accounts."  That  might  have  raised  him 
in  the  estimation  of  the  men  who  could  not  boast  of  these 
accomplishments  if  he  had  carried  his  knowledge  with 
modesty ;  but  he  had  a  way  of  making  his  messmates  feel 
their  ignorance,  and  he  was  a  sneak  and  a  toady  where 
thrift  would  follow  fawning. 

The  command  of  the  enterprise  of  Keith's  arrest  was 
only  nominally  given  to  Smith.  It  was  his  first  bit  of 
active  promotion  ;  but  he  was  all  the  same  under  the 
unofficial  orders  of  Ruddock.  His  task  was  not  an  easy 
one.  Hardly  any  other  man  in  the  ship  would  have  taken 
it  cheerfully  ;  no  other  would  have  been  proud  of  it ; 
especially  when,  at  starting,  Admiral  Ristack  simply 
referred  to  Smith  as  the  spokesman  of  the  party,  intimating 
that  he  would  get  his  orders  from  Admiral  Ruddock. 

If  on  leaving  the  outraged  home  of  the  Keiths  the  men 
had  obeyed  the  word  of  command  with  readiness,  they  did 
not  disguise  their  ill-temper.  Nicol  and  his  red-bearded 
companion  had  openly  murmured.  Others  of  the  men  had 
responded  to  their  observations  in  a  manner  that  seemed 
to  disparage  the  action  of  the  spokesman.  They  con- 
versed in  low  tones,  but  Smith  heard  them,  and  knowing 

72 


MUTINY.  73 

that  Ruddock  and  Bentz  were  ahead  of  them,  felt  safe  in 
rebuking  the  men  who  had  addressed  words  of  sympathy 
to  Mrs.  Keith.  It  was  enough  that  he  had  endeavored  to 
finish  the  business  without  a  fight.  He  knew  that  Ruddock 
would  appreciate  the  diplomatic  way  in  which  he  had 
saved  him  and  his  friend  Bentz  from  that  fire-eater,  Pat 
Doolan.  So  he  screwed  up  his  courage  and  asserted 
his  position.  When  they  were  well  on  their  way  to  the 
boats,  he  turned  upon  the  company  with  the  word,  "  Halt ! " 

The  men  obeyed,  but  without  ceasing  their  talk. 

"  Donald  Nicol,"  said  Smith,  "  I'll  report  you  for  insub- 
ordination ! " 

"  And  by  the  might  of  grand  auld  Scotland,  if  you  do, 
my  canny  man,  I'll  stick  a  knife  between  your  ribs,  if  I 
swing  for  it  !  "  said  Nicol,  breaking  ranks  and  confronting 
the  spokesman. 

"  Right  you  are,"  said  the  red-bearded  one,  standing  by 
his  side. 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Smith.     "  Fall  in  !  " 

"  Fall  in  be !  "  said  Nicol.  "  What  do  you  take  us 

for — a  troop  of  marines  ?  Look  here,  mates,  who's  this 
whippersnapper  frae  the  sooth  that's  goin*  to  jaw  an  auld 
sailor,  and  thirty  year  a  fisherman,  aboot  insubordina- 
shun  ?" 

"And  for  what?"  asked  his  fellow-countryman,  "for 
bein'  civil  to  a  puir  devil's  wife,  who'd  been  gagged  by  a 
coward." 

"  Fall  in,  I  say,"  was  Smith's  only  reply. 

"  And  I  say,  stand  !  "  exclaimed  Nicol.  "  By  Heevens, 
we'll  hae  this  thing  out  now.  D'ye,  hear,  Jim  Smith  ?  " 

"  It's  mutiny,"  said  Smith,  in  as  defiant  a  tone  as  he 
could  command. 

"  Oh,  mutiny  be  blowed,"  said  another  of  the  crew,  hail- 
ing from  the  east  coast  of  England  ;  "  take  it  back,  Jim 
Smith,  take  it  back.  You've  got  your  bit  of  promotion  in 


74  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

a  bad  cause,  and  ye'll  take  back  the  insult  about  reporting 
Donald  Nicol.  D'ye  hear  ?  " 

"  I  have  my  duty  to  do,"  said  Smith,  quailing  a  little 
before  the  third  speaker. 

"Your  duty  !"  exclaimed  the  east  coaster.  "  What  do 
you  think  you  are  ?  What  do  you  think  we  are  ?  We  are 
notmen-o'-warsmen,  nor  even  privateers  ;  we're  just  common 
sailors  on  board  a  fishin'  ship,  the  master  no  better  than  any 
one  of  us,  with  a  power  that,  by  the  Lord,  is  a  disgrace  to 
our  country  !  "  , 

"  Aye,  aye,"  shouted  the  entire  company. 

"  Take  back  your  insult,  or  we'll  make  the  Anne  of  Dart- 
mouth too  hot  for  you  !  " 

"  Gie  us  your  hand,"  said  Nicol,  grasping  the  eastern 
man's  big  fist. 

"  Oh,  my  heavens,  mates,"  exclaimed  Smith,  all  his 
assumption  of  authority  gone,  "  don't  talk  like  that.  I 
take  it  back — all  I  have  said.  I  don't  want  to  be  at  enmity 
with  Donald  Nicol  or  any  man  on  the  ship.  I've  been 
promoted  through  interest,  I  know.  I  tried  to  do  my 
duty " 

"  But  it's  not  your  duty  to  sneer  at  a  shipmate  'cause  he 
cannot  read  his  letters  nor  do  a  sum  in  figures,"  said  a  burly 
chap,  who  had  often  been  Smith's  butt  in  the  fo'ksle. 

"That's  all  right,  mates,"  said  another.  "Jim  Smith's 
got  his  lesson  ;  and  we've  got  it  writ  down  in  our  minds. 
That  lasts  longer  nor  books." 

"  You  tak  it  a'  back  ?"  said  Nicol,  "that's  understood  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Smith  ;  "and,  more,  I  ask  your  pardons." 

"  That's  a'  reight,"  said  Nicol ;  "  ther's  nae  mair  to  be 
said,  mates  !  " 

"Yes,  ther's  just  this,"  replied  the  east  coastman.  "We 
conclude  to  keep  an  eye  on  Jim  Smith,  and  we'd  have  him 
know  that." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  the  rest. 


MUTINY.  75 

"  Very  well,  then,  Mister  Take-it-back,  give  us  the  word!  " 
said  the  east  coastman,  falling  in  with  the  rest. 

They  found  Ruddock  and  Bentz  by  the  boats  awaiting 
them. 

"  What  have  ye  been  argufying  about  ? "  asked  Ruddock, 
standing  by  the  first  boat,  and  motioning  a  crew  to  step 
aboard. 

"  We  were  discussing  the  prospect  of  fishing  beginning 
to-morro\v,"  said  Smith. 

"  Oh,  that's  all,"  Ruddock  replied. 

"Wind's  changed  to  the  right  quarter,  Donald  Nicolsays," 
continued  Smith. 

"  Oh,  it  has,  has  it  ? "  said  Ruddock. 

"  Better  be  takin'  cod  than  planters,"  said  Nicol. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Ruddock,  "what  ?" 

"  Donald  says  there's  mair  fun  in  fishin'  for  cod  than 
traitors,"  said  the  red-bearded  one. 

"Oh,"  said  Ruddock,  "seems  to  me  there's  as  many 
traitors  most  as  cod  on  this  coast." 

"  They'd  mak  short  work  o'  the  Anne  o  Dartmouth  and 
the  Pioneer  if  there  was,"  said  Nicol,  with  a  disputative 
swing  of  his  right  arm  as  he  vaulted  into  the  boat. 

"  Would  they  ?  "  said  Ruddock  ;  "  Donald  Nicol,  ye  are 
too  free  with  your  tongue." 

"  It's  just  a  way  we  have  in  Scotland,"  said  Nicol. 

"  It's  a  way  I  don't  allow  on  the  Pioneer"  said  Ruddock. 

"Vary  weel  ;  when  I  hae  the  honor  to  belong  to  the 
Pioneer  I'll  remember  it,"  said  Nicol,  settling  down  to  his 
oar. 

"  Now  lads,  pull  away  !  "  said  the  boatswain,  and  the 
splash  of  the  oars  put  an  end  to  further  discussion. 

As  the  men  climbed  once  more  upon  deck  they  could  see 
that  Heart's  Delight  had  been  awakened  from  one  end  of 
the  long  street  to  the  other.  It  was  not  yet  midnight,  at 
which  time,  as  a  rule,  not  a  single  lamp  or  candle  would  be 


76  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

burning  in  the  village.     Now,  however,  the  place  was  illumi- 
nated as  if  in  honor  of  some  happy  event. 

Not  only  were  there  lights  in  the  windows,  but  torches 
and  lanterns  were  moving  about  along  the  sea  front.  The 
people  were  obeying  the  orders  of  the  father  of  the  settle- 
ment, preparing  for  their  exodus  on  the  morrow,  while  Alan 
Keith  lay  bound  and  wounded  in  the  hold  of  his  enemy's 
ship. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOW    THE    KING'S   MEN    MADE    REBELS. 

THE  first  mad  impulse  of  Heart's  Delight  was  t<u  rescue 
Alan  Keith.  John  Preedie  proposed  to  man  every  boat  in 
the  harbor  and  board  the  admiral's  ship. 

"  He  will  fire  his  long  gun  across  your  bows,"  said 
Plympton,  "  and  if  that  does  not  bring  you  to  he  will  fire 
into  you." 

"  Some  of  us  will  go  down,"  said  Preedie,  "  the  rest  will 
swarm  over  the  ship's  sides  like  bluejackets  boarding  a 
Spanish  galleon." 

"  The  long  gun  which  Ristack  has  mounted  on  his  main- 
deck  is  the  same  kind  of  engine  you  admired  so  much 
on  the  Yankee  sloop  that  put  in  for  provisions  soon  after 
the  ice  broke  up.  D'ye  mind  the  thing  ?  " 

"  That  I  do,  friend  Plympton,  and  would  to  God  the 
American  was  here  now  ;  we'd  join  his  standard  and  fight 
these  King  George  men,  long  gun  or  no." 

"  An'  by  jabers  why  not  fight  them  now  ? "  exclaimed  Pat 
Doolan  ;  "  and  turn  the  Anne's  long  gun  on  the  Pioneer  and 
the  Dolphin!' 

"  Let  us  not  talk  wildly,"  said  Plympton. 

"  Saving  your  honor's  authority,  and  no  man  bows  lower 
to  its  wisdom  than  Pat  Doolan,  I  am  not  talking  wildly  ;  it's 
a  regular  plan  in  black  and  white  I  have  constructed ;  and 
its  just  this  ;  the  campaign  on  shore  first,  the  maritoime 
adventure  after;  let  us  meet  the  bastes  with  the  cunning  of 
the  fox  ;  pretend  submission,  and  while  they're  at  their 
damnable  work  on  our  hearths  and  homes  fall  upon  them 
and  cut  every  man's  throat  of  'em  !  " 


78  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

A  low  murmur  of  approval  greeted  Pat's  fiery  speech. 

"  I  would  like  nothing  better,  if  success  could  be  assured," 
Plympton  replied. 

"  Believe  me,  we'll  not  fail,"  said  Pat,  "  and  if  we  do  we 
can  but  die  onst." 

"  But  we  don't  want  to  die  at  present,"  said  Plympton  ; 
"we  began  by  thinking  of  the  women  and  children,  let  us 
still  keep  them  in  mind  ;  if  we  could  be  reasonably  assured 
of  victory,  and  could  follow  it  by  capturing  the  Anne  and 
turning  her  long  gun  upon  the  Pioneer  and  the  Dolphin  or, 
if  failing,  we  could  march  inland  unmolested,  leaving  scouts 
to  look  out  for  a  rebel  ship  to  take  us  aboard  or  assist  in 
our  defense — for  St.  John's  would  send  troops  after  us — 
then  I  would  say,  let  it  be  war  to  the  death." 

"  Aye,  aye  !  "  exclaimed  the  majority  of  the  crowd,  but  it 
was  evident  that  the  approving  voices  were  only  intended  to 
indorse  the  latter  part  of  the  Master's  words. 

"  I  am  for  going  at  the  murderous  scum  o'  the  earth  right 
here  !  "  said  Preedie,  his  knotted  forehead  puckered  with 
angry  lines,  his  lips  closed  tight,  his  right  hand  clenched. 

"Hooroo  !  "  shouted  Doolan. 

"  Friends,  brothers,"  said  Father  Lavello,  stepping  into 
their  midst,  "  be  advised  by  Master  Plympton,  he  has  more 
at  stake  than  any  of  us  ;  he  is  thoughtful  as  he  is  brave  ;  if 
you  have  to  fight  by  all  means  fight,  and  to  the  death  I  am 
with  you  ;  but  do  not  be  the  aggressors." 

"  Father  Lavello  is  right  in  that  last  remark,"  said 
Plympton  ;  "  do  not  let  us  be  the  aggressors.  We  may  have 
to  fight  whether  we  wish  or  no ;  anyhow,  this  day  will  not 
see  the  last  of  the  Ristack  and  Ruddock  outrage  !  To-day, 
for  some  inscrutable  reason,  God  gives  them  the  advantage  ; 
but  our  turn  will  come.  In  the  meantime,  notwithstanding 
the  government's  breach  of  faith,  as  represented  by  these 
ruffians,  who  disgrace  the  English  flag,  it  would  be  folly  to 
offer  a  weak  and  useless  resistance  to  the  carrying  out  of 


HOW   THE  KING'S  MEN  MADE  REBELS.  79 

the  authoritative  order  of  the  fishing  admirals.  I  would 
advise  that  for  the  present  we  think  no  more  of  fighting. 
The  wise  commander  selects  his  time  and  ground,  and  does 
not  allow  the  enemy  to  do  that  for  him  and  take  him  at  a 
disadvantage.  Besides,  some  of  us  have  valuables  to  protect 
— specie,  plate  ;  not  too  much  of  it,  but  enough  to  give  us  the 
advantage  on  some  future  occasion.  We  may  yet  have  a 
ship  of  our  own,  armed  with  more  than  one  long  gun,  and 
equipped  with  the  force  of  our  own  bitter  wrongs." 

The  master's  face  flushed  as  he  flung  out  this  threat,  and 
the  crowd  cheered  lustily. 

"  If  that's  in  your  mind,  old  friend,"  said  Preedie,  "  say 
no  more  ;  we  will  take  our  orders  from  you." 

"  Indade,  and  we  will  if  they  lead  us  to ,  saving  your 

riverence's  presence,"  said  Pat,  pausing  in  his  full  run  of 
profane  allusion  to  a  certain  place  which  has  a  special  charm 
of  contrast  and  illustration  for  men  of  all  conditions  of 
recklessness. 

"  I  forgive  you,  Pat.  You  mean  well,  but  your  vocab- 
ulary is  ample  without  profanity.  Leave  that  to  men  of 
passion  and  limited  speech.  They  need  the  safety  valve  of 
a  profane  expletive.  Look  at  our  friend  Bowers ;  he  will 
explode  if  he  doesn't  utter  one  good  round  anathema  of  all 
cowards." 

The  priest's  judicious  interposition,  and  his  characteristic 
badinage,  relieved  the  situation  of  its  vengeful  aspect,  and  it 
was  resolved  that  Master  Plympton's  judgment  should  be 
acted  upon  ;  that,  in  short,  the  entire  community  should 
place  themselves  in  his  hands. 

It  was  still  dark.  There  was  a  clear,  starry  sky  above. 
This  was  only  enough  to  show  an  outline  of  things.  The 
lights  of  the  hostile  vessels  could  be  seen  blinking  like  mock 
stars  at  sea.  A  line  of  light  along  the  shore  showed  the 
course  of  the  waves  as  the  tide  came  swelling  into  the 
harbor. 


8o  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

There  was  no  more  thought  of  sleep.  The  collection  of 
the  goods  and  chattels  of  the  village  was  commenced  by  the 
light  of  torches  and  lanterns.  John  Preedie  hummed  an  old 
sea  song  as  he  helped  to  carry  out  his  household  goods,  and 
he  thought  of  Plympton's  threat  of  a  large  and  dignified 
vengeance  as  he  piloted  to  his  heaviest  wagon  an  iron-bound 
box  weighted  with  great  locks  like  a  Spanish  dollar-chest, 
such  as  may  still  be  found  in  old  country  houses,  relics  of 
the  days  of  Raleigh,  Frobisher,  and  Drake.  Plympton  had 
one  or  two  similar  articles,  but  the  Master's  money  treasures 
consisted  chiefly  of  Bank  of  England  notes  and  bonds. 

Morning  came  soft  and  sweet.  With  its  first  rosy  streaks 
Doolan  and  a  dozen  others  started  for  Back  Bay  Valley, 
where  neither  tents,  sheds,  nor  buildings  came  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  fishing  admirals.  It  is  true  they  might,  if 
provoked,  stretch  their  authority  and  appeal  to  the  governor 
for  support  ;  but  it  was  hardly  likely,  the  village  being 
quietly  evacuated,  that  the  emigrants  would  be  molested. 

All  day  long  the  villagers  labored  at  their  "  flitting,"  as 
one  of  the  east  coast  men  called  the  exodus. 

Every  kind  of  domestic  furniture  was  laid  in  heaps  along 
the  sandy  shore.  The  day  was  genial  and  pleasant,  the  sky 
as  blue  and  serene  as  a  summer  day  in  that  city  of  the  sea 
of  which  Father  Lavello  had  so  often  spoken,  and  to  which 
Plympton  was  fond  of  offering,  by  way  of  competition,  the 
picture  of  a  certain  Devonshire  port  sleeping  in  the  sun 
or  bright  and  busy  with  venturous  ships  coming  and  going 
to  and  from  all  the  known  and  unknown  seas  of  the  wide 
world. 

During  the  morning,  without  a  word  to  Plympton  or  the 
rest  until  his  return,  Father  Lavello  had  taken  a  boat  and 
presented  himself  before  Admiral  Ristack  as  a  petitioner  for 
the  release  of  Alan  Keith. 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  keep  you  for  his  confessor  when  we 
hoist  him  up  to  yonder  yardarm,"  said  Ristack,  hitching  up 


HOW   THE  KING'S  MEN  MADE  REBELS.  8 1 

his  belt  and  turning  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  sallow 
cheek. 

"  I  would  not  wish  to  confess  a  more  honorable  man,"  said 
the  young  priest. 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't  !  Damme,  sir,  d'ye  mean  to  say  I'm 
not  honorable  ? " 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  I  think  it  would  be  an  honorable  act 
to  release  your  prisoner,  Alan  Keith." 

"  That's  the  kind  of  honorable  act  I'm  not  to  be  bullied 
into,  d'ye  hear,  Master  Priest  ?" 

"  I  hear,"  said  Lavello. 

"  And  further,  mark  me,  the  devil  take  me  if  I  don't  stop 
your  perverting  campaign  in  these  parts  ;  d'ye  know  it's 
illegal  to  perform  the  Mass  in  Newfoundland  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  it." 

"  Then  it  is,  I  tell  you.  Body  o'  me,  I'll  have  ye  burnt  if 
ye're  not  careful  of  your  conduct  in  this  affair." 

"  I  could  not  burn  in  a  holier  cause,"  said  Lavello. 

"Oh,  you  couldn't  !  You're  a  saucy  priest,  let  me  tell 
you  ;  quit  this  ship  while  ye're  free,  d'ye  hear  !  " 

"  One  word,  not  as  priest,  but  as  man  to  man,"  said 
Lavello.  "  Mrs.  Keith  has  received  so  great  a  shock,  not 
being  in  good  health  at  the  time  of  the  attack  on  her  hus- 
band, that  her  life  is  despaired  of ;  Keith's  release,  if  it 
does  not  save  her  life,  will  console  her  dying  hours." 

"  To  the  bottomless  pit  with  Mrs.  Keith  !  "  was  the  brutal 
reply;  "the  world  would  be  the  better  for  the  extermination 
of  the  whole  brood  of  'em.  Mrs.  Keith  forsooth  !  Bo's'n, 
see  this  fellow  to  the  boat." 

"  Dinna  fear,  he'll  nae  hang  him,"  said  a  voice,  as  Lavello 
went  down  the  ladder  and  dropped  into  his  boat.  He 
looked  up,  but  could  not  see  the  man  who  had  spoken. 

The  priest  was  rowed  by  a  silent  old  fellow  who  had 
sought  through  life  to  model  his  conversation  on  the  prov- 
erb, "  The  least  said  the  soonest  mended." 


82  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"  Did  you  hear  that  remark,  Bowers  ?  "  asked  Lavello. 

u  Aye.  sir,"  said  Bowers. 

"  They  will  hang  him  nevertheless,  if  they  dare,"  said  the 
priest. 

Bowers  made  no  reply,  but  simply  tugged  away  at  the 
oars.  While  the  priest  was  on  board  Ristack's  ship, 
Sandy  Scot  had  intrusted  a  long  and  important  message  to 
Bowers  for  careful  and  timely  deliverance  to  John  Preedie. 

The  silent  one  was  committing  it  to  memory.  All  the 
same,  had  his  mind  been  unburdened  with  Sandy's  message, 
he  would  still  have  held  his  peace.  He  not  only  did  not 
talk  as  a  rule,  but  on  theological  matters  he  was  opposed  to 
the  views  of  Father  Lavello. 

"We  have  fallen  on  bad  times,  Bowers  !  " 

"  Aye,  sir,"  said  Bowers. 

"  We  must  bear  and  forbear." 

Bowers  made  no  answer. 

The  priest  also  dropped  into  silence.  Calmly  contem- 
plating Bowers,  he  noted  that  the  man's  face  was  full  of 
wrinkles,  that  his  mouth  was  hard,  his  lips  'tight,  his  hair 
grizzled,  his  hands  enormous,  his  body  broad  and  strong, 
his  legs  like  bended  pillars,  his  feet  so  large  that  he  might 
have  been  one  of  those  ancient  Picts  that  Hereward  ridi- 
culed and  scoffed  at  in  the  olden  days.  He  found  Bowers 
quite  fascinating  for  want  of  any  other  object  of  contempla- 
tion ;  his  mind  was  so  perplexed,  he  could  not  bring  it  into 
any  exercise  of  discipline  ;  it  revolted  against  every  maxim 
that  fitted  the  case  of  Keith,  the  young  wife,  and  her 
devoted  father.  Presently  he  began  to  count  his  beads  and 
to  pray  for  guidance  and  strength. 

The  room  in  which  Hannah  was  lying  was  reserved  until 
the  last  loads  were  arranged  for  removal.  She  had  striven 
hard  to  bear  up  against  the  disaster  that  had  befallen  her. 
The  local  leech  had  bled  her,  and  possibly  it  was  the  worst 


HOW   THE  KING'S  MEN  MADE  REBELS.          83 

thing  he  could  have  done,  but  the  master  and  Sally  Mum- 
ford  admitted  that  the  fever  into  which  she  had  fallen  had 
considerably  diminished  since  that  operation.  The  disease 
and  the  remedy  had,  however,  left  her  very  weak.  Her 
pulse,  which,  during  the  night,  had  beaten  in  alarming  sym- 
pathy with  a  high  state  of  fever,  had  now  fallen  very  low. 
The  doctor  said  it  would  be  dangerous  to  move  her.  One 
of  the  women  offered  to  go  out  to  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth 
and  plead  for  her,  but  the  men  declined  to  have  any  further 
action  taken  in  the  way  of  petition.  Moreover  Master 
Plympton's  messenger  from  St.  John's  had  returned  with 
the  intimation  that  Heart's  Delight,  within  six  miles  of  the 
shore,  was  absolutely  under  the  authority  of  Admiral  Ristack 
and  his  colleagues,  the  Vice  and  Rear  Admirals  of  the 
Fishing  Fleet. 

It  was  within  an  hour  of  the  twenty-four  that  had  been 
granted  to  them,  when  Hannah  was  carried  forth  on  a 
stretcher  en  route  for  Back  Bay  Valley.  She  was  very  pale. 
Her  weary  eyes  turned  toward  the  ship  where  her  husband 
lay  in  irons.  She  murmured  his  name,  and  offered  up  a  prayer 
for  his  safe  return  to  her.  Father  Lavello  walked  by  the 
side  of  the  litter,  Sally  Mumford  followed  with  little  David, 
who  beheld  the  proceedings  with  a  baby  smile.  The  village 
leech  and  some  twenty  women  made  up  the  sad  procession  ; 
and  as  many  men  remained  behind,  packing  the  last  loads 
upon  John  Preedie's  wagon.  Other  bundles  and  pieces  of 
furniture  had  been  carried  a  few  hundred  yards  along  the 
road,  awaiting  later  removal. 

Master  Plympton,  with  a  dozen  other  settlers,  received  the 
admiral  and  his  boat's  crew.  The  master  was  very  calm. 
He  had  dressed  himself  as  if  for  a  state  ceremony.  He 
wore  a  pair  of  dark  brown  breeches  and  worsted  stockings, 
with  shoes  and  buckles,  a  swallow-tail  coat  with  a  high  collar 
and  stock,  and  a  sugarloaf  hat  with  a  steel  buckle  and 
band.  He  was  clean  shaven,  and  his  gray  hair  fell  some- 


84  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL, 

what  stiffly  behind  his  ears.  His  long,  sharp-cut  features 
were  very  pale,  his  gray  eyebrows  looked  more  than  usually 
thick  and  shaggy,  his  eyes  more  than  usually  sunken.  In 
contrast  with  the  blustering,  pimpled  Ristack,  he  looked 
like  an  aristocrat  of  the  bluest  blood. 

Ristack  had  also  dressed  for  the  occasion.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  the  fishing  admirals  had  no  special 
uniform  ;  neither  had  they,  for  that  matter,  as  ordinary 
masters  of  ships  ;  but  some  of  them  donned  curious,  showy 
jerkins  and  belts,  with  such  bits  of  finery  as  might  be  picked 
up  in  foreign  ports.  Ristack  had  assumed  a  costume  that 
was  something  between  a  naval  uniform  and  the  costume  of 
a  pirate  chief.  Most  conspicuous  was  his  cocked  hat,  and  his 
heavy  belt,  in  which  a  brace  of  pistols  were  prominent.  Rud- 
dock was  not  present,  and  Lester  Bentz  had  also  thought  it 
wise  to  remain  on  board  the  admiral's  ship. 

"Sir,"  said  Plympton,  "we  surrender  the  village  to  you  as 
the  king's  representative  ;  we  do  so  under  protest  ;  we  do 
so  in  the  cause  of  peace.  With  such  example  as  is  offered 
us  elsewhere,  and  with  not  less  aggravation  to  revolt,  we 
might  on  moral,  and  even  patriotic  grounds,  have  resisted 
your  high-handed  proceedings.  Nay,  you  must  hear  me, 
sir  !  " 

"  Then  check  your  tongue,  Master  Plympton,  and  make 
your  oration  brief ;  I  am  not  bound  to  listen  to  yarns,  and 
I  draw  the  line  at  treason,"  said  Ristack. 

"A  great  disaster  may  be  dwarfed  by  a  greater,"  said 
Plympton  ;  "  since  you  fell  upon  our  son  and  carried  him 
from  us,  we  have  felt  the  destruction  of  our  homes  as 
nothing  ;  release  Alan  Keith,  and  we  will  disappear  from 
Heart's  Delight,  never  to  return  !  If  this  sacrifice  is  not 
enough,  name  some  other ;  we  will  obey  it." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  the  men  of  Heart's  Delight. 

"  If  you  had  stowed  your  jaw  to  this  extent  at  our  first 
meeting,  Master  Plympton,  our  measures  might  have  been 


HOW   THE  KING'S  MEN  MADE  REBELS.  85 

moderated  ;  but  at  present  we  make  no  terms  beyond  what 
the  la\v  and  the  king's  authority  have  laid  down." 

"Is  that  your  final  reply  ?" 

"  It  is,"  said  Ristack. 

"You  winna  release  our  comrade?"  said  one  of  the 
villagers,  standing  forth  defiantly;  "ye  broke  your  word, 
ye  made  your  king  lie,  you  came  like  a  thief  i'  the  neight 
and  broke  into  a  peaceful  hoose,  and  ye'll  mak  no  recom- 
pense ? " 

"  None,"  said  Ristack.     "Stand  back,  man  !  " 

"  I'll  nae  stand  back,  ye  evil-minded  son  o'  perdition," 
said  the  villager,  with  flashing  eyes,  his  hand  upon  his 
dirk. 

"  Arrest  the  traitor,"  exclaimed  Ristack,  turning  to  his 
men. 

At  once  a  score  of  villagers  gathered  round  their  cham- 
pion. Cutlasses  and  knives  were  drawn.  The  admiral  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  pistols,  but  the  sailors  did  not  advance, 
and  the  villagers  did  not  retrea|. 

Another  moment,  and  the  men  would  have  been  at  each 
other's  throats.  Plympton  came  between  them.  "  Back, 
my  friends,  no  bloodshed  ;  don't  forget  the  women  and 
children." 

Then  turning  to  Ristack,  he  said,  "Bear  with  my  neigh- 
bor, he  is  a  Magreggor  and  finds  it  hard  to  suffer  oppres- 
sion." 

.  Ristack  was  anxious  to  avoid  an  encounter.  His  cause 
was  too  weak  to  inspire  him  with  more  than  a  blustering 
imitation  of  courage.  He  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  as 
to  the  devotion  of  his  crew,  and  his  game  was  to  get  com- 
fortable possession  of  Heart's  Delight.  It  was  not  his  cue 
to  fight  at  this  time. 

"  Draw  off  your  vagabonds,"  he  said  to  Plympton.  "  The 
law  is  with  me  and  the  power,  and  I  can  afford  to  be  patient 
in  the  doing  of  a  disagreeable  duty." 


86  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"Friends  and  comrades,"  said  Plympton,  "you  have 
made  me  your  leader ;  be  ruled  by  me." 

"  Aye,  aye,  we  will,"  was  the  reply. 

"Since  you  are  in  a  judicial  mood,  Sir  Admiral,"  said 
Plympton,  "  and  a  patient  one,  let  me  plead  for  the  release 
of  your  prisoner,  Alan  Keith  ;  it  will  make  my  vagabonds, 
as  you  are  pleased  to  call  them,  content  to  leave  you  their 
hearths  and  homes.' 

"  Don't  Sir  Admiral  me,  Master  Plympton,  with  a  sneer 
on  your  lips,  and  don't  repeat  me.  I  am  in  a  judicial  mood, 
I  am  the  king's  representative,  and  in  opposing  me  you  put 
yourself  in  the  wrong." 

"  Not  so  much  in  the  wrong  as  your  seizure  of  Alan  Keith 
and  the  manner  of  it,"  said  Plympton. 

"  That's  as  the  great  lords  and  judges  of  the  land  shall 
resolve  in  England,"  said  Ristack. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  will  take  him  to  England  ? " 
asked  John  Preedie. 

"  I  do,  unless  he  will  purge  himself  of  his  guilt  by  confes- 
sion, and  join  you  in  guarantees  of  good  behavior  till  the 
fishing's  over." 

"Confession  !"  exclaimed  Plympton,  "of  what  crime?" 

"  Obstructing  the  king's  authority,  speaking  treason, 
inciting  Heart's  Delight  to  rebellion." 

It  was  in  Plympton's  mind  for  a  moment  to  rush  upon  the 
lying  tyrant  and  choke  him  on  the  spot ;  but  Preedie, 
seeing  his  comrade's  sudden  rise  of  passion,  took  him  by 
the  arm  and  drew  him  aside. 

"  You  ask  too  much,"  said  Preedie. 

"  I  shall  ask  no  less,"  said  Ristack,  "  and  now,  Master 
Plympton,  there's  no  more  to  say,  I  think." 

"  Not  another  word,"  said  Preedie,  answering  for  his 
friend. 

"  Bo's'n,  signal  for  the  carpenters,"  said  Ristack. 

The  boatswain  drew  a  pistol  from  his  belt,  and  fired. 


HOW   THE  KING'S  MEN  MADE  REBELS.  87 

Plympton,  moving  away  with  Preedie,  beckoned  his  neigh- 
bors to  follow  him,  and  as  they  disappeared  among  the 
undulations  that  gradually  rose  into  the  foothills  of  the 
distant  mountains,  two  boats  put  off  from  the  Anne  of 
Dartmouth,  and  the  demolition  of  Heart's  Delight  was 
commenced. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IN    THE   SHADOW    OF    THE   FOREST   PRIMEVAL. 

THE  evicted  villagers  were  just  as  busy  in  laying  out 
their  new  settlement  as  the  fishing  admirals  were  in 
destroying  the  old  one.  The  distant  mountains  slumbered 
on  all  the  same  in  the  sunshine,  the  sea  was  calm  as  if  in 
utter  disregard  of  man's  happiness  or  misery,  the  flowers 
blossomed  in  the  valleys  inland,  the  flag  on  the  tiny  fort 
showed  its  colors  in  a  gentle  response  to  the  breeze  ;  every- 
thing on  sea  and  shore  wore  an  air  of  blissful  peace. 

A  tent  had  been  erected  for  Hannah,  the  child,  and 
Sally  the  nurse.  The  body  of  the  favorite  dog,  Sampson, 
had  been  brought  along  and  buried  in  a  copse  of  tamarack 
and  birch.  On  the  bark  of  the  tallest  tree  John  Preedie 
had  cut  the  letter  S,  pending  a  more  important  memorial. 

Mattresses  and  beds  of  skins  were  placed  beneath  the 
trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  Fires  were  lighted  as 
a  protection  against  wild  animals  and  insects. 

The  forest,  at  the  point  where  the  settlement  had  been 
commenced,  needed  no  clearing.  It  was  wide  and  open,  with 
a  bright  clear  stream  of  water  dancing  through  it,  over 
shining  pebbles.  It  reminded  one  of  the  men,  who  hailed 
from  Derbyshire  (having  run  away  from  Belperto  go  to  sea), 
of  a  bit  of  valley  he  knew  as  a  boy  near  Buxton,  the  only 
difference  being  that  the  brook  he  knew  was  full  of  trout, 
so  tame  in  the  shallows  that  you  could  tickle  them  with  your 
hand,  which  was  a  fashion  of  fishing  when  he  was  a  lad. 

The  forest,  of  which  the  valley  was  a  piece  of  Nature's 
clearing,  was  full  of  noble  timber — spruce,  balsam-fir, 
tamarack,  white  birch,  and  poplar.  Open  spaces,  here  and 


IN  THE  SHADO  W  OF  THE  FOREST  PRIME  VAL.   89 

there,  bore  evidence  to  the  general  fertility  of  the  district. 
Flowers  of  many  kinds  brightened  the  scene.  The  wild 
strawberry  and  raspberry  were  in  bud.  Maiden-hair  fern 
and  flowering  heaths  abounded.  Wild  cherry  trees  were 
shedding  their  snowy  blossoms  among  the  green  grasses. 
Here  and  there  at  bends  in  the  stream,  where  it  rested  as 
if  to  provide  quiet  pools  for  indolent  fish  or  limpid  beds  for 
water-lilies,  the  blue  iris  flourished  on  its  banks.  Water- 
fowl, hitherto  undisturbed  by  gun  or  dog,  sailed  about  the 
calm  waters,  and  in  the  evening  deer  came  out  of  the  woods 
to  drink. 

From  marshy  patches,  deep  down  in  marshy  offshoots  of 
the  valley,  rose  the  rich  perfume  of  lilies  of  the  valley. 
Childish  stragglers  from  the  camp  found  the  wild  lupin, 
Jacob's  ladder,  Solomon's  seal,  and,  more  notable  still,  the 
pitcher  plant,  its  tubular  leaves  heavy  with  pure  water.  A 
woman  from  Lincolnshire  shed  tears  over  a  bunch  of  lilies 
of  the  valley.  They  reminded  her  of  the  days  when  she 
was  a  young  and  innocent  child,  roaming  the  woods  of 
Norton,  where  acres  of  the  sweet,  pure  flower  blossomed. 
Little  she  thought  in  those  days  to  come  so  far  and  suffer 
so  much  before  she  saw  the  lovely  flower  again.  Not,  she 
said,  that  she  had  been  hungry  and  thirsty  and  had  found 
no  relief — life  was  hard  enough  at  all  times  ;  it  had  been 
much  harder  for  many  than  she  had  found  it  with  her  good, 
honest  man — and  yet  she  could  not  help  crying  at  sight  of 
the  lilies  of  the  valley.  She  could  shut  her  eyes  with  that 
perfume  about  her  and  see  the  cottage  where  she  had  lived 
as  a  girl,  and  the  beck  slipping  along  by  the  sedges  at  the 
botton  of  the  twenty-acre  meadow. 

The  people  were,  truth  to  tell,  mostly  in  a  reminiscent 
mood.  They  hardly  realized  their  loss.  Some  of  them  felt 
the  incident  of  migration  to  Back  Bay  Valley  as  a  holiday 
picnic.  There  was  something  pleasant  in  being  together, 
all  one  family  as  it  were.  It  reminded  some  of  the  old 


90  UNDER   THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

people  of  the  first  days  of  Heart's  Delight  ;  but  Back  Bay 
had  the  advantage  of  trees  and  grass  and  flowers  and  run- 
ning brooks.  At  sunset,  several  of  the  men  returned  to 
camp  with  their  hands  full  of  flowers.  They  straggled  in 
more  like  children  than  men  ;  and  far  away  in  the  distance 
could  be  heard  a  little  company  of  pioneers  singing  the 
chorus  to  an  old  ballad  of  the  sea. 

"John  Preedie,"  said  Master  Plympton,  taking  a  pinch  of 
snuff  from  Preedie's  box,  and  proceeding  at  the  same  time 
to  fill  his  pipe  with  tobacco  almost  as  black,  "  we  must  have 
a  strong  and  powerful  ship." 

"  It  would  be  a  fine  possession,"  said  Preedie. 

"  Two  ships  for  choice  ;  but  one  that's  equal  to  any  six 
such  as  the  Anne  of  Dar  mouth" 

"Yes," said  Preedie,  "on  the  lines  of  a  king's  frigate,  with 
a  hull  as  high  as  a  church  and  yards  on  her  mainmast  like 
the  wings  of  the  fabled  roc." 

"You  love  hyperbole,  Preedie,  when  you  are  talking  of 
ships." 

"  My  master  was  a  poet,  Plympton — had  the  gift  of  song 
as  the  saying  is,  and  was  the  very  devil  in  action." 

"  How  long  did  you  sail  with  him  ?  " 

"  Seven  years.  And  we  had  letters  of  marque,  but 
Captain  Hoyland  wasn't  particular.  It  was  fine  business 
while  it  lasted  ;  but  it  didn't  last.  Seven  years  was  a 
fair  term,"  said  Preedie.  "  Give  me  two,  and  I'll  never 
complain." 

"  Now  look  you,  Preedie,  you  must  leave  this  to-morrow. 
They  say  the  sloop  we  saw  was  from  Salem  ;  they  say  she 
bad  been  a  slaver.  Boston  or  Salem  are  your  ports  ;  they 
have  been  building  ships  fast  as  the  stays  would  hold  'em. 
I  will  provide  the  money." 

"  I  am  not  without  means,  Master  Plympton  ;  the  venture 
being  to  my  approving,  I  am  in  with  you  body  and  purse." 

"  Did  you  like  the  business  Master  Hoyland  followed  ?  " 


IN  THE  SHADO  W  OF  THE  FORES  T  PRIME  VAL.        91 

"  I  did  not  object  ;  if  it  had  a  spice  of  the  right  kind  of 
revolt  or  vengeance,  as  one  may  say,  where  the  ship's 
thunder  and  lightning  smote  a  foe  as  well  as  won  a  fortune, 
why,  then,  Master  Plympton,  I'd  have  liked  it  the  better." 

"  That  is  the  sort  of  work  for  you  and  me  !  "  said  Plymp- 
ton. "  Seems  to  me  that  these  are  no  days  for  loyal  men 
and  true  ;  the  false  and  the  villain  prosper  ;  the  king  either 
has  not  the  heart  or  the  power  to  do  what's  right  ;  the 
government's  in  the  hands  of  such  as  Ristack  and  Rud- 
dock ;  they  send  us  weak,  time-serving  governors  ;  specu- 
lating merchants  and  money-grabbers  make  a  market  out  of 
us.  I'm  with  the  men  of  Boston  and  Salem  ;  I  am  for 
taking  a  hand  in  the  business  of  the  sea." 

"  And  I  for  vengeance,  too,  friend  Plympton  ;  and  since 
they  have  turned  us  adrift  and  despoiled  us  of  our  homes, 
insulted  our  women,  and  borne  off  to  their  ship  the  best 
fellow  and  the  most  honest  of  all  Heart's  Delight,  why,  to 
hell  with  allegiance  that  brings  dishonor  and  a  tyrannous 
rule  !  " 

"  There's  Keith's  smack,  The  Perth ;  she'll  serve  you 
for  the  trip.  The  weather's  favorable,"  said  Plympton. 
"  Bowers  and  the  dwarf,  with  the  Eastern  man  and  Jim  the 
builder,  might  make  up  your  crew.  Doolan  must  stay  by 
me." 

"Right,"  said  Preedie,  "  I'll  ship  the  four  of  'em,  handy 
men  and  safe." 

"  You  could  put  off  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  We  could  ;  might  tack  about  a  bit  with  a  net.  Best  not 
excite  suspicion,"  said  Preedie,  with  something  in  his  mind 
quite  different  from  the  Plympton  plans  of  the  moment. 

"  If  you  think  right.  But  what  suspicion  can  they 
have  ?  " 

"  They'll  suspect  everything  and  provide  for  every  emer- 
gency." 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  said  Plympton. 


92  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  D'ye  never  think  of  a  rescue,  Plympton  ? "  asked 
Preedie  suddenly. 

"  I  think  of  nothing  else,"  said  Plympton,  "  but  I  am 
fearful  of  tightening  Alan's  irons  ;  they've  got  him,  Preedie, 
and  we  must  not  endanger  his  life  by  any  rash,  ill-digested 
scheme  of  attack." 

"By  the  Lord,  Plympton,  I  am  thinking  that  age  has  bred 
in  you  such  an  amount  of  caution  that  it  weighs  down  your 
natural  courage.  I'm  the  man  now  to  sneak  a  boat  along- 
side in  the  night  and  board  the  damned  illegal  prison,  and 
take  Alan  off  at  every  hazard." 

"  I  honor  your  spirit,  Preedie,  but  we  help  his  cause  and 
our  own  best  by  going  slowly.  Alan,  cautious,  would  not  be 
where  he  is.  Come  round  to  my  quarters.  I  have  made 
ready  for  your  expedition  papers,  draughts,  letters  ;  you'll 
nothing  lack,  sailing  into  Salem.  Rendezvous  and  flag,  I 
have  all  set  forth  ;  and  between  now  and  then  maybe  I'll 
ransom  Keith,  that  we  may  have  a  master  worthy  of  that 
business  of  the  sea  upon  which  we've  set  our  mind.  Eh, 
friend  Preedie  ? " 

"  I'm  wi'  ye  to  the  death,  and  if  we  don't  make  these 
ruffians  and  their  imbecile  royal  master  smart  for  it,  why 
then  let's  perish  in  the  attempt." 

"  That's  well  said.  But  first  we  must  provide  a  reason- 
able safety  for  Hannah  and  the  rest.  It  is  war  upon  which 
we  are  about  to  enter,  and  we  must  make  our  dispositions 
accordingly.  Come  on,  old  friend,  d'ye  mind  our  winter 
evenings  ?  Good  fortune  and  ill,  sunshine  and  storm,  bide 
close  together,  do  they  not  ? " 

They  met  Lavello,  as  they  walked  toward  the  rough  hut 
which  had  been  run  up  for  Plympton's  accommodation. 
Plympton's  mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  schemes  of 
vengeance  to  be  in  tune  for  the  mild  and  religious  advice  of 
the  priest.  Indeed,  the  triumph  of  injustice  and  brutality 
had  so  worked  upon  his  otherwise  gentle  nature  that  he  felt 


IN  THE  SHADO  W  OF  THE  FOREST  PRIME  VAL.    93 

an  inclination  of  general  revolt  against  all  constituted 
authority,  spiritual  or  otherwise.  This  feeling  was  inten- 
sified by  the  hopeless  condition  of  his  daughter  Hannah. 

"  My  daughter  ? "  h,e  said,  as  Lavello  approached  them. 

"  I  was  about  to  speak  of  her,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Then  don't  delay.     How  is  she  ?  " 

In  all  the  priest's  association  with  Plympton,  he  had  had 
no  experience  of  the  peremptory  tone  in  which  the  master 
now  addressed  him. 

"  I  fear  she  is  no  better,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Nor  will  ever  be,"  said  Plympton,  "  spite  of  all  our 
prayers.  Oh,  my  God,  why  persecutest  thou  me  ?  " 

"•Nay,  nay,"  said  the  priest,  "  be  patient,  dear  friend." 

"  It  is  easy  to  preach  patience." 

"And  with  the  help  of  God  and  the  Church  it  is  easy  to 
practice  it,"  said  the  priest. 

"  What  can  you  know  of  that,  who  never  lost  a  wife,  who 
never  had  a  child  at  death's  door  ?  Now  is  the  time  to  show 
what  you  can  do.  Now  is  the  time  to  pray  and  count  your 
beads,  to  swing  the  censer  and  say  the  Mass,  to  prostrate 
yourself  and  ask  that  it  may  be  given  to  you,  to  cry  and  ye 
shall  be  heard.  Oh,  my  God,  I  shall  go  mad  !  " 

Plympton  flung  himself  upon  the  ground,  and  wept  aloud. 
Preedie  and  the  priest  gazed  at  each  other.  They  had  not 
suspected  this  possibility  of  passion  in  one  whom  they  all 
looked  upon  as  having  full  control  of  himself  ;  as  one  who 
would  bear  any  shock  with  fortitude. 

"  Let  us  leave  him  for  a  while,"  said  Preedie  ;  "  he  is 
strangely  overcome  ;  he  will  be  the  better  for  this  heart's 
defeat  of  the  head.'"' 

"  I  grieve  to  see  him  thus,"  said  the  priest,  walking  apart 
with  Preedie. 

"  And  I,  dear  sir,"  said  Preedie  ;  "  but  he  is  sorely  wrought 
upon  by  his  love  of  Keith  and  Hannah,  and  bitterly  smitten 
in  the  overthrow  of  Heart's  Delight." 


94  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  I  would  I  could  do  more  than  pray  for  him,"  said  the 
priest.  "\  would  not  hold  it  wrong  to  fight  his  battle  with 
carnal  weapons,  but  I'll  go  pray.  Master  Preedie,  do  you 
minister  to  him  physically." 

The  priest  handed  Preedie  a  flask  of  brandy,  and  went  to 
his  little  open-air  altar  beneath  a  clump  of  whispering  pines. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    PRISONER    AND    IN    IRONS. 

ALAN  KEITH  lay  in  the  hold  of  Ristack's  vessel,  dazed, 
stunned,  sore  in  mind  and  body.  He  had  fought  like  a 
lion,  only  to  be  beaten  down  and  fettered  as  if  he  were  still 
a  brute,  untamed  and  dangerous. 

The  hold  was  dark,  and  stifling  with  the  odor  of  fish. 
The  sounds  of  life  on  board  the  ship  came  to  him  dim  and 
faint.  The  wash  and  slop  of  the  waves  was  all  that  he 
could  hear.  He  was  weak  with  the  loss  of  blood.  His 
manliness  seemed  to  go  out  of  him  in  tears.  He  imagined 
his  wife  subjected  to  insult  and  injury,  and  when  he  did 
rouse  himself  it  was  in  a  half  hysterical  fashion.  The 
memory  of  his  days  of  happiness  tortured  him.  His  obsti- 
nate clinging  to  Heart's  Delight  occurred  to  him  now  as  a 
crime.  He  ought  to  have  been  guided  by  Plympton,  whose 
love  for  his  daughter  must  have  been  of  a  keener  instinct 
than  his  own.  Why  had  he  not  taken  the  old  man's  advice? 
Why  will  youth  insist  upon  buying  its  own  bitter  experience  ? 

These  thoughts  came  to  him  in  his  loneliness,  happily,  for 
the  time  being,  to  be  followed  by  something  akin  to  insensi- 
bility. 

He  could  not  think  out  any  consecutive  idea.  He  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  everything,  as  if  he  were  dead.  -More 
than  once  he  must  have  been  delirious.  He  thought  he  was 
in  purgatory,  did  not  remember  what  had  happened,  where 
he  was,  who  he  was ;  and  he  would  fall  a-sobbing  like  a 
child. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  Alan's  strong  life  that  he  had 
been  under  control  ;  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  been 

95 


g6  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

worsted  in  any  undertaking.  From  his  earliest  boyhood  he 
had  been  a  leader  and  a  master  of  men.  In  every  game  of 
physical  skill  he  had  led  the  way  at  Perth.  In  his  teens  he 
was  an  able-bodied  seaman.  There  was  no  nasty  bit  of 
navigation  on  the  Scottish  coast  that  he  had  not  conquered. 
The  boldest  of  sailors,  he  was  the  most  expert  of  fishermen. 
But  for  that  first  sight  of  Hannah  standing  at  her  father's 
door  he  might,  instead  of  being  chained  in  a  floating  prison, 
have  been  master  of  his  own  vessel,  with  a  crack  crew  in 
every  port.  He  had  in  his  modest  way  told  Plympton  of 
his  position  and  prospects.  For  three  years  his  father,  a 
prosperous  merchant  and  shipowner,  had  been  waiting  for 
his  return  to  endow  him  with  all  that  a  man  of  his  character 
and  ambition  could  desire. 

When  at  last  Alan  began  to  recover  the  balance  of  his 
mind  he  could  not  guess  how  long  he  had  been  a  prisoner. 
He  ran  over  the  events  which  had  preceded  his  successful 
arrest.  The  quiet  talk  with  his  wife,  his  romantic  plan  of 
leading  the  villagers  to  a  peaceful  valley  and  being  their 
savior  ;  the  sudden  alarm,  his  seizure,  pinned  to  the  earth 
before  he  could  strike  a  blow,  his  unavailing  struggle,  the 
gag  that  was  forced  between  his  teeth,  the  dragging  of  him 
along  the  shore,  the  whispered  orders  to  his  captors,  the 
arrival  at  the  boats,  being  flung  in  and  literally  trampled 
upon,  hauled  up  the  ship's  side,  dashed  upon  the  deck; 
and  the  brutal,  "  Damn-you-what-do-you-think-of-yourself- 
no\v?" — uttered  by  Ristack  ;  all  this  presently  came  back 
to  him.  But  he  remembered  no  more.  Ristack  must  have 
struck  him  as  he  gave  him  this  brutal  welcome.  It  must 
have  been  hours  afterward  before  he  came  to  his  senses. 
Merciful  Heavens  !  were  they  going  to  leave  him  here  to 
starve,  to  die,  to  rot  ?  He  tried  to  move.  He  was  pinioned. 
Both  legs  and  arms  were  useless.  He  cried  out,  but  his 
voice  seemed  to  fail  in  his  throat. 

He  prayed  to  God  for  patience  and  for  help.     Not  for  his 


A   PRISONER  AND  IN  IRONS.  97 

own  sake,  but  for  hers,  for  the  sake  of  their  child,  and  for 
Plympton.  His  prayers  were  not  in  words  so  much  as  in 
thoughts.  Having  prayed,  he  cursed,  uttered  the  deepest 
and  blackest  oaths,  swore  the  most  deadly  vengeance,  and 
mentioned  the  names  of  the  men  he  hoped  to  tear  limb 
from  limb.  Bentz,  Ruddock,  Ristack  !  These  names  he 
registered  in  his  inmost  soul  and  the  name  of  the  Anne  of 
Dartmouth. 

But  nothing  happened. 

Time  went  on.  The  waves  washed  up  against  the  bul- 
warks. The  sea  slopped  and  swished  against  the  prow.  He 
could  tell  that  it  was  a  calm  night.  He  thought  of  the  stars 
that  were  shining  on  Heart's  Delight. 

How  could  there  be  all  this  peace  when  tyfanny  and 
murder  were  afloat  ?  How  could  Heaven  look  on  and  see 
the  sacredness  of  a  man's  home  outraged,  husband  torn 
from  wife,  wife  from  husband,  and  for  what  ?  He  held  his 
breath  with  horror  when  he  thought  of  Hannah  in  the 
power  of  the  man  Ruddock  and  the  fiend  Ristack.  He 
had  always  hated  Bentz,  though  his  absence  from  Heart's 
Delight  for  so  many  months  had  hushed  Alan's  resentment 
into  forgetfulness.  It  had  only  been  by  way  of  what  Plymp- 
ton had  considered  a  necessary  warning,  that  he  had  informed 
Alan  of  his  encounter  with  Bentz  in  regard  to  his  proposal 
for  Hannah.  As  he  thought  of  this,  his  heart  almost  ceased 
beating. 

Presently,  in  such  a  voice  as  he  had  left,  he  began  to  talk 
to  himself  as  if  he  were  someone  else  :  "  Patience,  man," 
he  said  ;  "  ye're  weak  enough  in  body  to  fall,  even  if  ye 
could  pick  the  locks  o'  these  infernal  irons.  Dinna  beat 
your  life  oot  agen  the  bars.  It's  a  mercy  ye're  alive  at  all. 
Why,  man,  if  it  werena  for  thoughts  o'  Hannah  ye'd  stand 
a'  this  wi'oot  a  murmur  !  I  call  to  mind  many's  the  time 
ye've  torn  your  flesh  after  an  eagle's  nest,  and  been  wi'oot 
food  the  day  and  neight,  and  thocht  naught  aboot  it  J 


98  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

Patience,  man  !  Eh,  but  how  long  hae  I  lain  here  ?  How 
long  ?  It  maun  be  half  a  week  !  O  God,  gie  me  strength 
and  patience !  " 

There  was  a  movement — a  footstep — he  was  sure  of  it. 
He  held  his  breath.  He  listened  with  his  body  and  soul. 
His  eyes  seemed  to  be  starting  out  of  his  head  ;  but  the 
darkness  was  as  black  as  ever. 

"  S-s-h,  man,  I'm  a  friend,"  said  a  voice. 

"  God  save  you  !  "  said  Alan. 

"  And  ye  the  same,"  was  the  reply. 

"Whaare  ye?" 

"  Donald  Nicol,  syne  I  can  remember,"  was  the  answer. 

The  owner  of  the  voice  now  stood  close  to  Alan  and  was 
bending  over  him. 

"  Are  ye  badly  hurt  ?  " 

"  I  fear  it,"  said  Alan. 

"  Gie  me  yer  hand,"  said  Nicol.     "  That's  reight." 

Alan  found  a  bottle  in  his  hand. 

"  Can  ye  reach  yer  mouth  ?  " 

"  No !  " 

"  Wait  a  wee  ;  ye  maun  sing  sma',  man  ;  it's  like  enough  I 
hae  been  watched.  S-s-h  !  I  dinna  ken  the  trick  o'  them 
irons,  but  we'll  investigate  them  the  noo.  I'll  first  assist  ye  to 
a  drink.  Let  me  get  houdo'  yer  head.  That's  it.  Pull  at  the 
bottle  ;  it's  meat  and  drink  and  life  to  a  man  in  distress." 

Alan  required  no  invitation.  If  it  had  been  a  poisoned 
dose  he  would  soon  have  been  a  dead  man. 

"  Now  houd  yer  soul  in  patience,  and  I'll  come  again. 
Twa  o'  yer  fellow-countrymen  hae  sworn  to  get  ye  oot  o' 
this,  and  I'm  one  of  the  twa." 

"  God  bless  you  !  "  said  Alan. 

"  But  we'll  hae  muckle  little  chance  for  the  next  hour  or 
twa,  and  ye  maun  just  lie  quiet ;  that  deevil  o'  an  admiral, 
a  curse  light  on  him,  is  gaeing  ashore  after  the  midday 
\vatch.  S-s-h  !  the  bo's'n's  comin'  to  see  ye." 


A   PRISONER  AND  IN  IKONS.  99 

Alan's  friend  in  need  crept  away,  and  almost  at  the  same 
moment  the  boatswain,  with  a  lantern,  attended  by  a  couple 
of  seamen,  came  down  into  the  hold. 

"  It's  the  admiral's  order  we  don't  let  ye  starve,  here's  a 
wedge  of  junk  and  a  biscuit,"  said  the  boatswain. 

Keith  moved  as  if  to  take  the  proffered  food. 

"  Here,  Dymoke,  loosen  his  right  hand." 

One  of  the  two  sailors  unfastened  the  irons  that  gripped 
the  prisoner's  hand. 

"  Here,  be  smart,"  said  the  boatswain. 

Alan  took  the  junk  and  began  to  gnaw  it.  The  hope  that 
filled  his  mind  encouraged  him  to  eat  that  he  might  keep 
up  his  strength. 

"  Have  ye  naught  to  say  ? "  asked  the  boatswain. 

"  Naught,"  Alan  answered,  breaking  the  biscuit  against 
his  irons. 

"  Surely,  eh  ?  " 

Alan  made  no  reply, 

"  It  might  answer  to  be  civil." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  say  ? "  Alan  asked  savagely. 
"  What  I  think  ? " 

"  Aye,  what  you  think." 

"  That  you're  a  base  coward  to  serve  such  a  master  as 
Ristack,"  said  Alan. 

"  If  ye  were  not  a  prisoner  and  in  irons  I'd  answer  that, 
my  lad,  in  a  way  you'd  not  forget,"  said  the  boatswain. 

"  We've  signed  articles  and  have  to  obey  orders,  and  if  we 
dinnat  it's  mutiny,"  said  Dymoke,  in  attendance  on  the 
boatswain. 

"  Aye,"  said  the  other  sailor. 

"  Maybe  he  doesn't  know  what  it  is  to  have  to  obey 
orders,"  said  the  boatswain. 

"  I  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  soul  to  be  saved  !  "  said 
Alan. 

"  Don't  you  think  nobody  else  has  a  soul !  "  said  the  boat- 


too  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

swain.  "  You  fought  as  if  you  didn't  when  we  brought  you 
aboard  ;  I've  got  a  bruise  or  two  in  token  thereof." 

Alan  once  more  subsided  into  silence. 

"The  doctor's  sent  you  a  plaster,"  said  Dymoke.  "I 
towd  him  you'd  a  pike  wound  in  the  head  ;  here,  man,  let's 
wash  it  for  ye  !  " 

"  I  want  none  o'  your  plaster,"  said  Alan. 

"  Nay,  be  advised,"  said  Dymoke  gently  ;  "  give  me  leave, 
boatswain,  it's  the  doctor's  orders." 

"  Why  didn't  the  doctor  come  hissen  ?  "  asked  the  boat- 
swain. 

"  The  admiral  forbade  it,"  said  Dymoke,  who  by  this 
time  was  sponging  Alan's  head  with  almost  a  woman's 
tenderness. 

"Curse  me,"  said  the  boatswain,  "if  I  don't  think  you 
favor  this  rebel  Keith  and  his  fellow  grabbers  o'  the  king's 
lands  !  If  you  do,  have  a  care,  or  the  admiral  will  make  a 
triangle  of  you  and  flog  you  till  you  scream  for  mercy  hard 
as  old  Trinder,  the  carpenter,  did  last  fishin'  season." 

"  He  winnat  flog  me,"  said  Dymoke  quietly,  "  and  if  he 
did,  he'd  get  no  cry  for  mercy  out  o'  me  !  " 

"  Does  he  ropesend  his  men  ? "  asked  Alan,  submitting 
to  the  plaster  and  the  binding  up  of  his  head  with  a  hand- 
kerchief and  feeling  the  stronger  for  Dymoke's  kindly 
touch. 

"  Does  he  ?"  sneered  the  boatswain,  "  aye,  and  it  gener- 
ally follows  being  put  in  irons  ;  so  mind  your  eye,  my. 
buck  of  Heart's  Delight  !  " 

"And  let  your  thief  of  a  skipper  mind  his,"  said  Alan. 

"  Hold  "ard,"  said  the  boatswain.  "  I'll  not  swear  I  won't 
report  them  words." 

'  Nay  dinnat  mind  him,  bo's'n,  he  doesna  mean  it  ; 
but  ye'd  better  tak  old  Bowers  for  your  model,  the  least 
said  soonest  mended." 

Dymoke   pressed   Alan's  arm  as  he  mentioned   Bowers, 


A   PRISONER  AND  IN  IRONS.  IOI 

and  Alan  checked  his  anger,  with  a  sudden  regard  to  diplo- 
macy." 

"  That's  reight,"  he  said,  "  and  I  ask  the  bo's'n's  pardon  ! 
Do  you  know  old  Bowers,  bo's'n  ?  " 

"  No.     Who's  Bowers  ! " 

"  Oh,  he's  a  half-saved,  worn-out  old  mariner ;  me  and 
Sandy  Scot  knows  him." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  the  man's  voice, 
more  particularly  when  he  mentioned  Sandy  Scot,  that 
sounded  like  a  hint  of  aid  and  hope.  Alan,  however, 
checked  the  reply  he  was  about  to  make,  giving  the  man  a 
responsive  sign  of  faith.  It  was  well  that  he  did  so,  for  the 
boatswain,  with  an  impatient  gesture,  said  :  "  Here,  come 
on,  mate,  we're  wasting  time  ;  "  and  as  the  two  stood  once 
more  outside  the  stuffy  odors  of  the  hold  the  boatswain 
remarked,  "Mind  what  you're  about,  Dymoke  ;  seems  to 
me  you  and  Sandy  Scot's  a  bit  too  close.  I  see  you  cover 
him  when  he  slipped  down  the  side  into  the  boat  that 
brought  yonder  priest  out.-  I  can  see  through  a  four-inch 
deal  as  well  as  most,  and  though  I  don't  love  the  captain 
any  more  than  you  do,  I'm  going  to  stand  by,  as  in  duty 
bound,  whatever  happens." 

"  It's  right  as  you  should,  bo's'n ;  no  offense,"  said 
Dymoke,  an  old  Lincolnshire  salt,  who  had  spent  his  early 
boyhood  beating  about  the  coast  and  trading  mostly  to 
Boston  and  Grimsby. 

"  And  aint  it  right  as  you  should  ?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  mor'n  I  say.  I  knows  my  duty  ;  but  I'm 
no  slave,  and  I  winnat  side  wi'  tyranny." 

"  Tyranny  !  "  exclaimed  the  boatswain. 

"  My  fayther  and  mother,  and  a  heap  out  o*  Boston, 
sailed  for  Salem  on  that  account  ;  they  couldn't  abide  not 
bein'  'lowed  their  right  freedom  ;  and  I  spose  it's  in  the 
blood." 


102  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  Oh,  you're  a  fool,  Dymoke  ;  we're  all  Englishmen,  but 
we  must  uphold  discipline  !  " 

"  That's  so,"  said  Dymoke,  wiping  his  lips  with  the  back 
of  his  hand,  and  trying  to  moisten  his  mouth,  which  was 
dry  with  suppressed  passion  ;  for  he  sympathized  with 
Keith,  and  hated  to  think  of  a  fellow-creature  lying  down 
below,  a  victim  to  the  malice  and  tyranny  of  Ristack,  whom 
he  knew  to  be  a  boastful  brute  and  a  coward. 

"  The  admiral  wants  you,"  said  the  mate,  stepping  up  at 
the  moment  and  addressing  the  boatswain,  who  straightway 
left  the  able-bodied  Dymoke  to  his  duties  and  his  reflec- 
tions. 

A  few  minutes  later,  a  crew  was  told  off  to  man  the 
admiral's  boat.  Neither  Donald  Nicol  nor  Sandy  Scot 
was  called,  but  Dymoke  was  among  the  crew  named  for 
duty  ashore.  As  he  passed  Nicol  there  was  a  knowing 
exchange  of  looks  that  was  in  sympathy  with  the  sudden 
hope  of  the  prisoner  that  he  was  not  to  be  left  entirely  to 
the  unrestricted  malice  of  Ristack.  Though  there  was 
nothing  more  definite  in  the  fear  of  Ristack  than  there  was 
in  the  hope  of  Keith,  the  admiral  ordered  a  double  guard 
over  the  hold. 

The  boatswain's  whistle  sounded  shrilly  in  the  summer 
air.  The  arrogant  shriek  of  it  gave  a  snap  to  the  freshness 
of  the  pleasant  breeze.  The  tall  spars  fairly  shone  against 
the  blue  sky.  There  was  something  spick-and-span  about 
the  whole  appearance  of  the  vessel  as  she  rose  and  fell  with 
a  gentle  motion  upon  the  deep.  She  looked  more  like  a 
king's  ship  than  a  fisherman.  Enough  had  already  been 
done  by  American  privateers,  and  French  and  Spanish 
cruisers,  to  compel  the  owners  and  masters  of  British  fishing 
ships  engaged  at  Newfoundland  to  give  extra  equipment  to 
vessels  already  in  the  service  and  to  put  into  it  new  and  well 
armed  vessels  that  might  with  skill  and  courage  hold  their 
own  against  the  heavy  odds  that  English  captains  were 


A    PRISONER  AND  IN  IRONS.  103 

accustomed  to  meet.  The  Anne  of  Dartmouth  was  no 
ordinary  craft.  The  one  long  and  formidable  gun  referred 
to  in  an  earlier  chapter  was  by  no  means  her  only  arma- 
ment. She  carried  a  very  hornet's  nest  of  guns,  besides 
cutlasses,  axes,  grappling-irons,  and  other  appliances  for 
battle  and  for  victory.  At  first  blush  it  might  seem  that 
this  was  rather  overdone  in  a  merchant  ship  ;  but  the  Anne 
was  Ristack's  own  vessel.  He  was  no  mere  servant  of 
a  merchant  company,  no  master  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
London  or  Plymouth  traders.  He  sailed  his  own  ship  and 
had  his  own  yards  at  Dartmouth,  besides  holding  shares  in 
other  fishing  enterprises  as  one  of  a  company  of  London 
merchant  venturers.  He  had  come  out  to  the  fisheries 
equipped  for  every  emergency.  A  man  of  mark  indeed  was 
Admiral  Ristack,  but  without  any  very  definite  record  of 
bravery  or  courage.  He  had  risen  to  prosperity  upon  other 
men's  shoulders.  He  was  not  the  man  to  fight  unless  he 
saw  his  way  to  an  easy  victory  or  was  compelled  to  strike  in 
self-defense  ;  and  he  had  lived  through  such  a  long  run  of 
luck  that  he  had  grown  reckless  as  he  was  arrogant,  presum- 
ing upon  his  good  fortune  and  rejoicing  in  his  animal  and 
sensual  passions.  ^ 

For  all  that,  it  must  have  been  a  fascinating  sight,  the 
preparations  to  man  the  boat,  the  men  skipping  gayly  along 
the  deck  to  the  cheery  command  of  "Away  you  go!" 
The  crew  literally  tumbled  over  the  ship's  sides  and  dropped 
into  their  places,  the  brisk  little  coxswain  at  the  tiller,  the 
bedizened  admiral  in  the  stern.  The  boat  leaped  through 
the  water,  throwing  up  a  fountain  of  spray,  as  she  made  for 
the  shore  where  the  sad  hearts  of  the  doomed  settlement 
awaited  the  destroyers. 

"  The  man  Dymoke's  a  brawchiel,"  said  Donald  Nicol  to 
Sandy  Scot,  as  they  swung  from  the  yards,  engaged  upon 
some  simple  duty. 

"  That  is  he,"  said  Sandy,  "  a  dozen  such  and  we  might 


104  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

hoist  the  rebel  flag  and  set  up  in  business,  wi'  Alan  for  our 
captain  and  ye,  Donald,  for  his  chief  mate." 

"Nay,  man,  I'd  be  willin'  to  serve  under  ye  baith  ;  I'm 
just  sick  o'  this  deevlish  service,  wi'  a  brute  beast,  while 
there's  better  wark  to  be  done,  and  prize  money  for  the 
winning  o'  it." 

"  S-s-sh  !  it's  the  bo's'n's  shadow  as  strikes  forrard,  he's 
got  the  ears  of  a  lynx." 

"  I  thought  it  was  eyes  as  they  was  most  favored  wi'," 
Sandy  replied. 

"It's  a'  the  same,"  said  Donald;  "keepyer  ain  eyes  on 
me  ;  it's  deeth  or  glory  the  neight,  Sandy  !  " 

The  boatswain's  whistle  broke  in  upon  the  conversation, 
and,  glancing  landward,  the  two  friends  of  Alan  Keith  saw 
the  landing  of  Ristack  and  his  crew.  Half-an-hour  later 
they  were  witnesses  of  the  signal  for  the  carpenters,  and  the 
dispatch  of  the  longboat  with  a  company  that  looked  like 
British  pioneers  with  their  axes  and  hammers,  instead  of  men 
on  an  expedition  of  shameless  destruction. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

SIGNALS   OF   FRIENDSHIP   AND    DANGER. 

RISTACK  was  a  proper  villain.  He  hated  those  whom  he 
injured.  From  those  whom  he  had  received  favors  he 
burnt  out  his  obligations  with  wrong.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
this  type  of  man  is  infrequent.  But  it  exists.  It  was  not 
necessary  in  those  days  to  be  a  Spanish  Don  to  be  a  wretch, 
or  a  French  Mounseer  to  be  a  coward.  Perhaps  Ristack 
was  some  mongrel,  who  could  not  be  in  very  truth  counted 
an  Englishman. 

The  opportunity  to  be  a  rogue  has  been  known  to  cor- 
rupt honest  men.  There  are  creatures  who  cannot  endure 
success  ;  it  makes  them  tyrants — brutes. 

Ristack,  in  his  early  days,  had  fawned  and  sneaked — had 
been  beaten  for  his  pains  with  sticks  and  staves.  He  had 
fawned  all  the  same — skunked,  crept,  crawled,  made  his 
way,  married  money,  stole  money,  got  money  ;  and  when 
he  could  strike  out  in  return  he  had  used  his  power  with  a 
hard,  brutal  strength  ;  had  drunk  and  lied  ;  fought  when  he 
must,  compromised  when  he  could  ;  had  broken  down  and 
slain,  but  with  the  legal  weapons  of  ill-treatment  and  harsh- 
ness, two  women  who  had  been  fools  enough  to  marry  him, 
each  with  a  little  fortune  ;  and  here  he  was  at  Heart's 
Delight  at  the  height  of  his  success,  a  noisy,  blustering, 
brutal  thing,  full  of  evil,  and  glorying  in  his  deviltry.  He 
had  fairly  reveled  in  the  destruction  of  Heart's  Delight. 
His  hatred  of  Plympton  was  unprovoked,  except  through  a 
consciousness  of  Plympton's  superiority  ;  but  Alan  Keith 
had  spurned  him  openly  and  dared  him  to  do  his  worst  ; 
that  was  enough  to  set  fire  to  his  vengeful  passions. 


106  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

If  Heart's  Delight  had  been  the  captured  stronghold  of 
an  active  and  bitter  enemy,  he  could  not  have  shown  greater 
satisfaction  in  knocking  it  to  pieces.  "  The  accursed  in- 
solence !  "  he  was  heard  to  exclaim,  as  he  took  part  with  his 
men  in  laying  low  some  more  than  usually  pretentious  bit  of 
woodwork,  "  to  build  themselves  houses  to  laze  out  their  lives 
on  stolen  land,  to  defy  the  admirals  of  the  king,  and  so  on  ; " 
justifying  himself  to  his  men  and  glorying  in  his  ill-gotten 
power.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  the  man  to  carry  his  villainy 
to  its  furthest  possible  point. 

"  Go,  man,"  said  Ristack,  in  the  midst  of  the  wreck  ashore  ; 
•"  Master  Lester  Bentz,  I  say,  old  fellow,  go  your  ways  to  the 
new  settlement ;  you'll  find  her  there,  the  lass  you  love,  as 
you  call  it  ;  the  lass  they  name  Hannah  Keith  ;  be  her 
friend,  get  her  aboard  the  Anne ;  tell  her  Alan  Keith  has 
sent  for  her  ;  tell  her  I'm  willing  to  release  him  ;  give  her 
this  ring  ;  I  tore  it  out  of  his  neck  gear  when  we  had  the 
scuffle  aboard  ;  take  it,  man  ;  she  will  believe  in  thee  with 
that  talisman  to  back  thee.  Ah,  ah — bring  her  aboard  !  " 

Bentz  took  the  ring.  His  cunning  nature  was  moved  at 
Ristack's  suggestion. 

"  They've  rigged  her  up  a  tent,  I  hear,  fit  for  a  queen  ;  go, 
lad  ;  go,  come  back  and  tell  us  how  the  land  lies." 

"  They  say  the  woman's  sick,"  Bentz  replied. 

"  Sick  !  Why,  of  course,  the  artful  hussy's  sick  ;  she's  sick 
for  her  man — go  and  console  her  ;  that's  what  the  landsman 
calls  it  when  at  sea  ;  go  and  console  her,  lad." 

Bentz  disappeared.  He  had  no  part  in  the  active  duties 
of  the  carpenters  and  mariners  of  the  first  Admiral  of  the 
Fleet. 

"I'd  half  a  mind  to  go  myself.  But  it  wouldn't  do  ;  them 
London  lords  might  see  personal  malversation  and  self- 
seeking  in  it  ;  I  can  hear  that  stiff-necked  old  coon  from 
Bristol  saying  as  much  when  the  case  of  Heart's  Delight 
comes  before  the  Council,  if  I  did  such  a  thing  ;  otherwise, 


SIGNALS  OF  FRIENDSHIP  AND  DANGER.         107 

stuff  me  with  tobacco  juice  but  I'd  lay  siege  to  my  fine  lady's 
tent  !  " 

This  was  the  theme  upon  which  Ristack  rejoiced  to  dwell, 
even  after  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  the  Anne  had  laid 
aside  her  usual  discipline  for  high  festival. 

The  bite  of  active  work  had  been  relaxed.  Extra  allow- 
ances ot  grog  had  been  served.  The  men  who  had  been 
ashore  had  already  tasted  the  sweets  of  unusual  duties  in 
certain  irregularities  of  liquor. 

Moreover,  fishing  was  to  be  commenced  on  the  morrow. 
All  the  signs  were  favorable.  The  cod  had  been  seen  to 
windward  chasing  the  caplin,  which  for  some  twenty-four 
hours  had  thickened  the  waters  of  the  bay.  Heart's 
Delight  was  now  really  the  fishing  admirals'.  The  service 
of  the  fleet  would  meet  with  no  obstruction,  hardly  with 
competition.  Ristack  had  resolved  to  occupy  Plympton's 
house  ashore.  He  would  live  like  a  fighting  cock.  Already 
he  had  figured  in  his  mind  what  things  he  would  send  ashore. 
St.  John's  should  contribute  the  necessary  furniture.  He 
would  have  a  rare  time. 

This  spirit  of  lawlessness  had  taken  possession  of  the  ship. 
It  was  a  lawless  age.  Englishmen  did  not  eat  Englishmen 
as  a  rule,  but  the  spirit  of  destruction  spreads.  The  same 
spirit  of  destruction  that  directs  heroic  action,  ill-directed, 
will  sacrifice  women  and  children  in  some  so-called  patriotic 
fury.  The  experiences  of  the  day,  followed  by  undue  allow- 
ances of  rum,  had  stirred  the  miscellaneous  crew  of  the 
Anne  of  Dartmouth  already  into  quarrels  and  disputes  ; 
occasion  offering,  it  would  have  led  them  into  any  excess 
of  right  or  wrong.  They  drank,  and  sang,  and  quarreled. 
Sandy  Scot  and  Donald  Nicol,  who  were  intensely  sober, 
took  on  the  appearance  of  conviviality  with  the  rest,  and 
went  on  playing  their  desperate  game  with  the  able-bodied 
Dymoke.  It  was  part  of  their  plan  that  Scot  should  quarrei 
with  Dymoke,  and  there  was  little  strength  in  the  pretended 


lo8  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

knockdown  blow  that  Dymoke  gave  Scot  as  a  conclusion  to 
a  careful  harangue  which  Scot  delivered  against  the  destruc- 
tion of  Heart's  Delight.  It  was  with  considerable  satisfaction 
that  Scot  at  once  found  two  of  the  least  drunk  of  the  crew 
by  his  side,  men  who,  while  they  did  their  duty,  did  not  hold 
with  Ristack's  views  of  his.  Half  an  hour  later  these  two 
men  had  been  won  over  to  the  side  of  Sandy  Scot  and 
Donald  Nicol  ;  and  the  conspirators  were  alive  with  a  well 
disguised  watchfulness,  while  they  seemed  not  the  least  reck- 
less of  the  drunken  crew. 

"  And  that's  all  you  got  for  your  pains,"  said  Ristack, 
addressing  Bentz,  whom  the  admiral  was  entertaining  with 
his  colleague  and  friend  Ruddock.  They  had  dined  right 
heartily,  had  drank  each  a  bottle  of  such  Madeira  as  is, 
alas  !  no  longer  common  afloat  or  ashore.  Ristack  had 
unloosened  his  belt,  had  laid  his  knife  and  pistols  on  a  grim 
old  chest  that  was  packed  with  arms,  and  had  ordered  rum. 

"  She  was  sick  unto  death,  they  said,"  Bentz  replied. 

"  Who  said  ?  " 

"  The  priest." 

"  The  priest  be  hanged — what  say  you,  Ruddock  ?  " 

"  The  same,"  said  Ruddock.  "  I'd  have  listened  to  no 
priest." 

"  What  the  hell  have  priests  to  do  here,  is  what  I  say," 
Ristack  replied,  pouring  out  a  hornful  of  rum,  a  great 
jorum  of  which  his  boy  had  placed  upon  the  table. 

"  Did  you  see  the  wench's  tent  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Bentz.  "  They  would  not  let  me  enter  the 
precincts  of  the  new  settlement." 

"  Wouldn't  let  you  !  Ah,  ah,  by  all  the  fish  in  the  sea 
but  they  shall  !  Wouldn't  let  you  !  Who  wouldn't  ?" 

"  Master  Plympton  and  his  Irishman.  They  were  sen- 
tinels at  the  bay  end  of  the  valley." 

"  Sentinels  !  A  murrain  on  them,  I'll  be  her  sentinel 
to-morrow  night.  What  a  poor  creature  you  must  be  !  " 


SIGNALS  OF  FRIENDSHIP  AND  DANGER.         109 

Ristack  went  on  drinking,  while  Ruddock  broke  up  a 
plug  of  tobacco  and  stuffed  it  into  his  thin  jaw,  which 
looked  like  an  ape's  with  an  abnormally  large  nut  in  process 
of  cracking. 

"  I  am  not  a  fighting  man,  as  you  know,"  said  Bentz. 

"I  am,"  said  Ruddock.  "  First  come,  first  served.  The 
admiral  with  his  usual  '  fair  doos '  says  Bentz  has  the 
first  claim  on  the  belle  of  Heart's  Delight  ;  and  so  we  allow 
you  to  take  the  precedence  as  the  First  takes  precedence  of 
the  Vice,  and  the  Vice  of  the  Rear  Admiral ;  but  it's  my 
turn  now  ;  and  I'll  bet  you  a  guinea  to  a  shillin'  they  don't 
put  me  off  with  their  sentinelship." 

"  Give  us  your  hand,"  said  Ristack,  grasping  Ruddock's 
red  fist,  "  that's  my  spirit,  old  as  I  am.  I'd  back  myself 
to  distance  you  both  in  a  downright  genuine  love  affair 
where  pluck  counts  for  beauty.  Ha  !  ah  !  I  never  was  a 
beauty  ;  but  I've  been  a  buck  ;  and  as  for  women,  why  who 
cares  about  such  paying  out  and  such  muffled  oars  to  get  at 
'em  !  Why,  in  Guinea  you  can  buy  them  by  the  dozen  for  a 
baccer  box  or  an  old  knife — aye,  Venuses  compared  with 
yon  pink-and-white  innanity.  Sick  is  she  ?  So  far  as  I'm 
consarned  she  maybe  sick  and  dead,  too,  the  sighing,  lack- 
adaisical penn'orth.  I  don't  care  !  " 

"Well,  I  do  care,"  said  Ruddock,  "and  I'll  have  her  on 
board  to-morrow  night,  considering  as  Bentz  resigns." 

"  Nay,  I  did  not  say  so,"  Bentz  replied. 

"  Drink,  Bentz,  drink  !  "  said  Ristack,  passing  the  jug  of 
rum  that  was  as  brown  as  mahogany  and  strong  as  Jamaica 
made  it. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  the  game's  in  your  own  hands  ;  hum- 
ble me  that  stuck-up,  saucy,  insolent  Keith,  and  his  fine- 
tongued  father-in-law,  and  you  may  settle  the  rest  between 
you.  Fight  it  out,  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost.  Bring 
her  on  board,  I  say,  to  see  her  man,  nothing  easier.  Bentz 
has  the  loadstone  that'll  bring  her  ;  I  thought  of  its  useful- 


no  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

ness  when  I  took  it  from  the  blamed  thief ;  bring  her  to  see 
her  man  ;  nothing  easier.  When  I  was  a  lad  in  Dartmouth 
I  knew  how  to  wheedle  the  girls,  and  they  were  worth  it. 
Yes,  by  the  Lord,  they  were — none  of  your  cheap  settlers, 
but  the  pick  of  the  land,  I  tell  you.  Here's  to  'em  as  I 
knew  'em,  and  to  the  devil  with  all  cowards  !  " 

Ruddock  drank  glass  for  glass  with  Ristack,  and  Bentz 
took  his  share.  They  were  a  sinister-looking  company. 
Ruddock  still  wore  his  fanciful  barbaric  dress,  with  a  thick 
gold  chain  round  his  neck,  his  strong  vulpine  mouth  in  grim 
contrast  with  the  coarse,  loose,  flabby  lips  of  Ristack  and  the 
puritanical  shifty  mouth  of  Bentz. 

The  porthole  of  the  cabin  was  open.  The  night  had 
grown  very  dark.  The  column  of  light  from  the  captain's 
cabin  must  have  penetrated  the  darkness  like  a  long  hot 
finger.  The  cabin  was  lighted  with  a  powerful  oil  lamp, 
that  swung  from  the  low  ceiling.  It  left  dark  corners  in 
the  apartment,  but  played  fitfully  upon  sundry  weapons  that 
hung  upon  the  walls.  The  brown  jug  upon  the  table  with 
a  silver  carafe  of  water  that  was  only  used  now  and  then  by 
Bentz  or  Ruddock,  and  the  heavy  horns  out  of  which  the 
men  were  drinking,  made  a  fine  picture  of  still  life,  flanked 
as  the  jug  was  with  a  great  leaden  tobacco  box,  and  a  broad 
knife  in  its  leather  sheath  that  Ruddock  had  taken  from  his 
belt  for  ease  and  comfort. 

They  had  been  sitting  some  time  over  their  liquor.  The 
effect  of  it  was  different  in  all  three.  Bentz  grew  mo're 
cunning  with  every  glass.  Ruddock  developed  a  jealousy 
of  his  colleague  and  patron.  Ristack  became  brutally  coarse 
and  criminally  vicious  in  his  cups.  His  small  piggish  eyes 
emitted  malignant  flashes  as  he  plotted  against  his  victims. 
His  face  was  red  with  robustuous  and  ill-conditioned 
inflammation. 

"  Curse  me,  but  I'd  like  to  see  the  Plympton  lass  aboard," 
he  said  ;  "  and  a  murrain  on  her  Scotch  villain  !  Husband 


SIGNALS  OF  FRIENDSHIP  AND  DANGER         III 

or  no  husband,  I'll  swing  him  from  the  yardarm  yet.  Did 
you  note  the  swine's  sneer — this  Plympton,  this  father  of  the 
settlement  ?  Ah  !  ah  !  We've  made  a  settlement  of  it  ! 
They  won't  know  it  to-morrow  .if  they  see  it." 

"  I  conclude,  Admiral  Ristack,  it  cannot  be  questioned 
that  you,  with  full  authority  and  according  to  law,  had  the 
right  to  destroy  the  place,"  said  Ruddock. 

"  Right !  Ruddock,  what's  the  matter  ?  Do  you  forget 
who  made  you  ?" 

"  I  suppose  God  made  me,  same  as  he  made  others,"  said 
Ruddock. 

"  I  made  you,  Ristack — I,  Tobias  Zacharay  Ristack.  I 
made  you  !  Is  that  so,  or  is  it  not  so  ?  Speak,  man  1" 

"Dear  friend,"  said  Ruddock,  filling  his  glass,  "I 
thought  you  were  asking  me  a  question  out  of  the  Cate- 
chism." 

"  I  was,  I  tell  you — a  question  out  of  my  catechism. 
Answer  me  that — Who  made  you  ?  " 

"  Tobias  Zacharay  Ristack,  Admiral  of  the  Fishing  Fleet 
of  Heart's  Delight,"  said  Ruddock. 

"  When  you  are  asked  that  question  again  answer  it,  d'ye 
hear  !  " 

"And  who's  the  best  friend  and  ally  you  ever  had,  the 
best  second  in  command  ?  "  asked  Ruddock,  emboldened  by 
his  tenth  glass  of  spirits. 

"  Ruddock  the  ready  !  "  the  admiral  replied,  "  Ruddock 
the  judicious  and  the  sly  !  Ah,  ah,  you  know  you  are, 
Ruddock  ;  sly  as  the  devil.  But  curse  me,  I  like  you,  Rud- 
dock, and  you  shall  advance  next  to  me — next,  mark  you. 
Next !  " 

"  I  look  for  no  higher  honor,"  said  Ruddock. 

"  Mind  you  don't,"  said  Ristack.  "  What  do  you  say, 
Master  Bentz,  eh  ?  And  which  of  you's  to  have  the  gal,  the 
belle  of  Heart's  Delight,  eh  ?  Which  ?  Will  you  fight  for 
her  ?  Will  you  fight  this  Scotch  devil,  Master  Bentz  ? " 


112  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  Thank  you,  Admiral  Ristack,  I  am  not  a  fighting  man, 
as  you  know,  though  I  admire  valor." 

"  But  you'd  fight  for  this  siren,  this  Venus,  this  Cleo- 
patra, eh?" 

"  I'd  do  almost  anything  to  win  her,"  said  Bentz. 

"  Go  on  ;  drink,  man,"  said  Ristack,  pouring  out  a  glassful 
of  liquor  and  pushing  it  before  him,  "to  win  her,  man. 
What  does  it  matter  whether  you  win  her  or  not.  By  Satan 
and  all  the  imps  ;  how  I  do  hate  the  whole  of  that  Plympton 
and  Keith  crew  !  " 

He  tightened  his  belt  and  half  drew  his  knife  as  he 
uttered  the  exclamation,  adding,  as  he  leaned  forward 
toward  Bentz,  "  Did  you  ever  kill  a  man,  Master  Bentz  !  " 

"  No,  thank  God  !  "  said  Bentz. 

"  You'd  rather  persecute  and  worry  them  to  death,"  said 
Ruddock,  "  it's  safer." 

"Have  you  ?"  said  Ristack,  addressing  Ruddock. 

"  I  don't  want  to  brag,"  said  Ruddock.  "  I  have  served  as 
a  volunteer  on  a  king's  ship,  and  seen  service." 

"  Seen  service  !  Curse  me,  but  I  could  spin  you  a  yarn 
that  would  make  your  flesh  creep  ;  we  were  boarded  by 
a  pirate  off  the  Azores  !  Bentz,  pass  the  rum  ;  you  drink 
like  a  fish,  and  sit  and  guzzle  as  silently.  Look  here,  my 
hearties,  have  any  of  us  seen  that  cursed  high  and  mighty 
Scot  Keith  since  we've  had  him  aboard  !  No.  A  plague  on 
every  mother's  son  of  us  but  we'll  have  this  Keith  up  and 
make  him  drink  to  the  fishing  admirals  of  Heart's  Delight." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke,  unsheathed  his  knife,  laid  it  upon 
the  table,  and  called  for  the  mate. 

"  Fetch  the  prisoner  Keith;  I  would  have  a  word  with  him." 

"Aye,  sir,"  said  the  mate. 

"Keep  the  irons  on  him." 

"Aye,  sir." 

"  Tell  him  I  want  to — oh,  tell  him  what  the  devil  you 
please." 


SIGNALS   OF  FRIENDSHIP  AND  DANGER.         113 

''Aye,  sir,"  said  the  mate. 

"  Make  no  trouble  ;  bring  him  quiet ;  no  disturbance." 

"Right,  sir,"  said  the  mate  as  he  left  the  cabin. 

Keith  was  only  too  willing  to  obey  the  admiral's  orders. 
Anything  was  preferable  to  the  dark  damp  hole  in  which  he 
was  languishing.  Moreover  his  mind  was  troubled  with 
hopes  and  fears.  Nicol,  in  some  unaccountable  way,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  visiting  him  not  more  than  an  hour  previously. 
His  faithful  fellow-countryman  had  informed  him  that  he 
had  been  able  to  send  a  message  to  John  Preedie,  one  of 
Keith's  best  friends,  intimating  that  if  a  "boat,  not  to  say  a 
bark,  could  be  handy  thereabouts  it  might  be  within  the 
range  of  possibility  that  the  Anne  would  have  a  passenger 
for  her,  perhaps  more  ;  and  the  signal  was  agreed  also. 
Nicol  had  wandered  on  in  a  whisper,  uttering  various  hints 
and  warnings  ;  and  had  disappeared  before  Keith  could 
rightly  understand  all  that  he  wanted  to  convey  to  him. 
The  night  was  favorable,  and  the  men  would  all  be  drunk — 
except  he  and  Sandy  Scot.  When  therefore  Keith  was  sent 
for  to  the  captain's  cabin  he  obeyed  as  quickly  as  his  chains 
would  permit,  and  thought  that  he  might  be  advancing  the 
schemes  of  his  friends,  whatever  they  might  be. 

But  it  was  very  far  from  being  any  part  of  Donald  Nicol's 
arrangements  that  Alan  should  be  hauled  up  before  Admiral 
Ristack. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BOWERS   THE    SILENT    DELIVERS   HIS  MESSAGE. 

ST.  JOHN'S  was  too  busy  with  her  own  affairs  to  pay  any 
attention  to  John  Preedie's  unusual  equipment  of  the  Perth. 
She  had  come  round  from  Heart's  Delight  for  certain  new 
nets  and  appliances  for  the  fisheries.  Who  cared  or  noticed 
whether  she  took  them  out  or  not  ?  St.  John's  did  not  love 
Keith  or  Plympton.  She  admired  them.  They  were  strong 
men  and  prosperous.  Heart's  Delight  was  more  than  a 
rival  of  St.  John's  ;'  it  was  like  a  little  independent  kingdom, 
that  was  a  standing  rebuke  to  the  larger  and  more  important 
community  living  under  the  immediate  eye  of  official  govern, 
ment  and  inspection.  The  strongest  men  of  Newfoundland 
somehow  drifted  to  Heart's  Delight,  and  accepted  the  inde- 
pendent and  unofficial  government  firstly  of  David  Plympton, 
and  latterly  of  Plympton  and  Keith. 

There  was  news  of  trouble  between  these  hardy  settlers 
and  the  fishing  admirals.  St.  John's  raHher  rejoiced  in 
this,  feeling  assured  that  Heart's  Delight  would  not  submit 
as  tamely  as  St.  John's  had  done  to  the  tyranny  of  the 
floating  magistracy.  Beyond  this  passing  thought  St.  John's 
gave  the  news  no  further  consideration.  The  codfish  were 
crowding  into  the  feeding  grounds  and  that  was  the  one 
great  news  of  the  year,  and  for  the  time  being  St.  John's 
cared  for  nothing  else. 

All  this  favored  the  easy  completion  of  John  Preedie's 
arrangements.  He  had  got  the  Perth  under  weigh  with 
incredible  speed.  She  was  a  trim  little  vessel.  You  might 
call  her  smack  or  bark  ;  Keith  used  to  speak  of  her  as 
his  bonnie  wee  Perth.  She  usually  combined  in  her  fishing 

114 


BO  WERS  THE  SILEN  T  DELI  VERB  HIS  MESS  A  GE.      115 

service  with  one  or  two  other  Heart's  Delight  craft  working 
both  net  and  line  ;  but  on  this  occasion  she  took  on  board 
neither  the  seine,  the  cod  net,  the  trap,  the  gillow,  nor  the 
hook  and  line  ;  she  had  a  new  kind  of  fishing  in  view. 

If  the  rival  fishermen  of  St.  John's  had  not  been  too  busy 
to  notice  the  Perth,  or  so  jealous  in  their  rivalry  that 
they  were  all  hurrying  up  with  their  own  fishing  devices, 
they  would  have  wondered  why  Mr.  John  Preedie  was  taking 
in  cutlasses,  muskets,  and  pistols,  not  to  mention  knives  and 
a  curious  kind  of  headgear  that  looked  suspiciously  like  a 
captain's  boarding  cap,  instead  of  the  customary  peaceful 
instruments  of  destruction  applicable  to  the  seafaring  of 
June  or  August  off  Newfoundland. 

Nick,  the  builder,  and  Damian,  the  dwarf,  had  slipped  out 
from  Plympton's  landing  stage  in  the  Perth's  dingey, 
while  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth's  men  were  still  hacking 
away  at  the  hearths  and  homes  of  the  settlement,  and  had 
kept  their  rendezvous  with  the  eastern  men  and  Bowers  the 
Silent  at  St.  John's. 

The  Perth  was  well  off  St.  John's  when  Preedie 
changed  her  course.  The  first  idea  of  the  trip  had  already 
been  suggested.  Preedie  had  resolved  to  make  his  own 
proposals  to  his  comrades  outside  all  possibility  of  eaves- 
dropping. "  Lay  her  to,"  he  said  to  Bowers,  who  was  at  the 
helm. 

It  was  a  calm  night,  but  with  a  freshening  breeze  that 
favored  the  new  point  that  Preedie  had  in  his  mind.  Oddly 
enough  Bowers  the  Silent  had  the  very  same  object  in  his 
mind,  not  clearly,  but  there  it  was.  Preedie  had  thought 
out  his  plan.  Bowers,  in  his  lumbering  way,  had  come  upon 
a  similar  notion,  but  not  intuitively,  for  he  had  taken  it  in 
with  a  certain  message  from  Sandy  Scot,  which  he  had 
nursed  for  the  right  opportunity  of  delivery.  He  had  taken 
joyful  note,  in  his  undemonstrative  way,  of  the  Perth's 
armament,  and  had  himself  carried  on  board  a  couple  of 


Il6  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

axes,  remarking  to  Preedie  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way 
that  "  mun  might  be  useful."  Preedie  with  equal  secretive- 
ness,  had  said,  "  Yes,  they  might."  If  Preedie  had  not 
altered  the  vessel's  course  when  he  did,  Bowers  would  have 
unbosomed  himself.  During  the  ten  minutes  previously  to 
Preedie's  order,  Bowers  had  suffered  considerably.  He 
hated  to  say  a  word  out  of  season  ;  hated  to  speak  at  all,  as 
we  know  ;  believed  in  the  eloquence  of  silence,  but  he  had 
more  than  once  been  on  the  point  of  letting  his  jaw-tackle 
run  before  Preedie  had  spoken,  and  he  knew  Preedie  must 
have  something  special  and  important  to  say. 

"  Mates,"  began  the  volunteer  captain  of  the  Perth, 
settling  himself  down  in  the  bows,  and  the  silent  man  knew, 
almost  as  if  he  looked  into  Preedie's  inmost  soul,  what  he 
was  going  to  say,  "  comrades,  one  and  all,  I  want  your 
attention.  Bowers,  let  her  drift,  I  have  something  to  say." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  Bowers,  leaning  his  back  against  the 
helm  and  taking  a  fresh  quid  from  his  leaden  tobacco-box. 

"  I'm  sick  of  things  as  they  stand,"  said  Preedie.  "  Use, 
they  say,  is  second  nature  ;  well,  I  suppose  it  is  ;  we'd  never 
have  stood  what  we  have,  had  it  been  otherwise  ;  but 
second  nature  gets  broken  down,  and  the  original  pluck  and 
courage  spring  up  afresh  out  of  the  ruins.  What  are  we  ? 
Swine,  slaves,  cattle,  dogs  !  By  the  Lord,  I  tell  you  I'm  sick 
of  it." 

"Not  more  than  we  are,"  said  the  dwarf,  squaring  his 
great  broad  shoulders  and  turning  over  a  quid  that  bulged 
out  his  weather-beaten  cheek.  "  Hell's  tame  to  what  I've 
suffered  in  mind  this  day." 

"We  are  comrades,  brothers,  men.  Let  us  stand  by  each 
other  and  act  for  ourselves,"  said  Preedie. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  the  eastern  man. 

"  David  Plympton  is  with  us,  heart  and  soul,"  continued 
Preedie  ;  "but  he  is  for  gathering  munitions,  buying  ships, 
declaring  war  so  to  speak,  and  all  on  a  fine  scale  !  I've  got 


BO  WERS  THE  SILENT  DELIVERS  HIS  MESSA  GE.      HJ 

his  authority  to  deal  for  men  and  ships,  and  for  a  right  hearty 
slap  at  our  foes." 

"  By  thunder,  that's  great  ;  that  means  joining  the 
Americans,  and  I'm  with  you  to  the  death,"  said  the  dwarf. 

"  I'm  there,"  said  Nick  the  builder. 

"  And  me,"  said  Bowers,  in  response  to  inquiring  glances, 
"but  I  goes  furder." 

"  Oh,  you  do,"  said  the  eastern  man,  laughing,  "  you 
always  was  a  dark  horse.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  When  Master  Preedie's  done,"  said  Bowers. 

"  Well,  this  is  all  I  have  to  say,"  continued  Preedie. 
"  You  see  yonder  cursed  sloop  with  her  defiant  flag  flying, 
and  the  ensign  of  the  admiral  !  look  at  her  !  Neither  a 
king's  ship  nor  a  pirate,  neither  an  honest  fisherman  nor  a 
trader — fine  lines,  tight,  trim,  a  "ship  any  crew  might  be  proud 
of  !  Look  at  her  from  the  point  of  view  of  ownership  ! 
look  at  her  as  a  buccaneer  !  look  at  her  with  letters  of 
marque  !  look  at  her  fighting  for  freedom,  with  the  new  flag 
of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flying  fair  and  free  !  look  at  her  as 
your  fancy  will — what  couldn't  we  make  of  her?  Then 
look  at  her  as  the  prison  of  our  comrade  and  friend,  gagged, 
in  irons,  torn  from  his  wife  and  child  ;  what  we  ought  to 
make  of  her  when  she's  ours,  there's  time  to  consider,  but 
considered  from  the  point  of  view  of  Alan  Keith's  prison, 
I'm  for  boarding  the  prison-ship  this  night,  and  giving  her 
a  new  flag  and  a  new  commander.  Now,  lads,  what  say 
you  ?" 

Preedie's  speech  was  received  with  a  dead  silence,  but  it 
was  the  silence  of  resolution.  Every  man,  following  the 
lead  of  the  fisherman  from  the  east  coast,  extended  a  strong 
broad  hand  to  Preedie,  who  shook  each  in  turn  ;  and 
Bowers  then  signified  that  he  had  something  to  say. 

"  I'm  a  man  of  few  words,  as  you  know,"  said  Bowers, 
pulling  up  his  right  boot,  and  turning  a  capacious  quid,  to 
give  his  tongue  full  play.  "When  Father  Lavello  went 


Il8  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

aboard  the  Anne,  a  red-headed  mariner  lowers  munsen 
into  my  boat,  and  says  he,  '  Scot's  my  name,  and  Scot's  my 
nation  ;  what  be  you,  Bowers  ?'  and  I  says,  '  The  same,'  says 
I.  '  I'm  a  friend  o'  Keith,'  says  he,  and  says  I,  '  I'd  follow 
mun  to  blazes,'  on  which  says  he, '  You  knows  John  Preedie  ? ' 
and  says  I, '  Have  I  ever  heard  of  Tenterden  Steeple  ? '  and 
then  he  goes  on,  says  he, '  Tell  John  Preedie  to  get  together 
a  strong  crew,  muffled  oars,'  he  says,  '  and  come  alongside 
by  the  starboard  bow,  and  when  he  sees  a  light  dropped 
over  the  side,  just  a  ship's  lantern,  mun,'  he  says,  '  why  look 
out  for  squalls.  Ther'll  be  a  ladder  with  the  light  ;  me  and 
two  others  '11  be  ready,  and  if  he  swarms  right  aboard  with 
all  arms,'  he  says,  '  the  men'll  be  drunk  except  me  and 
Nicol,  and  another  or  so,  and  if  John  Preedie's  the  same 
man  as  I  sailed  with  in  the  Azores,  why,  he'll  gie  the 
Anne  a  different  flag  to  that  what  we  be  groanin'  under  ; ' 
and  that's  the  whull  matter." 

"  Sandy  Scot,  by  Jupiter  !  "  exclaimed  Preedie,  "and  his 
game's  our  own." 

Bovvers  relapsed  into  silence.  He  had  made  the  one 
speech  of  his  life.  If  he  had  been  saving  himself  up  for  the 
effort,  during  all  his  years  of  thoughtfulness  at  Heart's 
Delight,  he  could  not  have  been  more  successful. 

"You've  settled  it  between  you,"  said  the  eastern  man, 
"and  it's  been  well  done  ;  it's  not  the  forlorn  hope  I  made 
it  out  two  minutes  since.  Preedie,  you've  won  the  right  to 
lead  us  !  " 

"  Follow  me,  lads,  I  ask  no  more  ;  and,  if  we  live,  to- 
morrow shall  give  the  Anne  a  new  captain,  and  his  name 
is  Alan  Keith." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  GODS  OF 
HEART'S  DELIGHT. 

DONALD  NICOL'S  dispositions  were  shadowed  by  the 
sudden  resolve  of  Ristack  to  have  Alan  Keith  brought 
before  him.  He  had  hoped  to  release  Keith  while  officers 
and  crew  were  drinking.  One  of  the  ship's  boats  was  float- 
ing astern.  Released,  and  on  deck,  it  would  not  be  difficult 
for  Keith  to  reach  i£.  This  was  the  smaller  of  Nicol's  hopes 
and  plans.  The  larger  one  lay  in  the  working  of  Scot's 
message  to  Preedie.  Scot  knew  Preedie,  and  Scot  had  no 
doubt  about  the  due  appearance  of  his  former  comrade, 
Hoyland's  famous  mate.  Scot  had  already  moved  most  of 
the  men's  arms  from  the  forecastle,  and  he  had  won  over  a 
Bristol  man,  who  had  also  sailed  with  Preedie. 

Everything  looked  favorable  until  Ristack  ordered  up  the 
prisoner  Keith. 

"  We'd  best  appear  just  as  drunk  as  the  ithers,"  said  Nicol 
to  Sandy,  "  and  be  awfu'  sober  at  the  reight  moment." 

Sandy  and  the  Bristol  man  whispered  their  "  aye-ayes," 
and  Nicol  reeled  past  the  mate  and  another  as  they  con- 
ducted Alan  to  the  captain's  cabin. 

"  Keep  your  feet,  prisoner,"  said  Ristack,  as  Keith 
attempted  to  sit,  borne  down  really  by  the  weight  of  his 
irons. 

With  a  great  effort  Keith  stood  upright. 

"  I've  a  message  for  ye,"  said  Ristack. 

Keith  wanted  to  hear  it. 

"Have  ye  no  tongue  in  your  cursed  mouth  ?"  Ruddock 
asked,  stretching  out  his  legs  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 

119 


120  UNDER   THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  D'ye  hear,  I'm  talking  to  you  ? " 

"  I  hear,"  said  Keith,  in  a  hoarse  whisper ;  his  voice 
seemed  to  have  gone  with  his  strength. 

"  You  know  Vice  Admiral  Ruddock,  eh  ? " 

Keith  bent  his  head,  his  blue  lips  moving  nervously,  a 
vague,  helpless  look  in  his  eyes,  all  the  more  forlorn  on 
account  of  the  rough  plaster  that  only  partially  hid  a  wound 
on  his  forehead. 

"  And  Master  Lester  Bentz  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Keith,  determined  not  to  give  any  new  occa- 
sion of  offense  to  any  of  them  at  that  time,  if  possible. 

"  Very  well,  drink  their  healths  and  the  good  ship  Anne 
of  Dartmouth.  Hand  him  a  glass,  mate ;  fill  it  up  a 
bumper." 

The  mate  did  as  he  was  ordered  and  handed  the  glass  to 
Keith,  who  took  it  with  a  trembling  hand. 

"  Nay,  stop,"  exclaimed  Ristack,  rising  unsteadily  and 
laying  his  hand  on  Keith's  manacled  arm,  which  only  just 
allowed  him  to  lift  the  glass  to  his  lips,  "  no  toast,  no 
rum." 

Keith  remembered  the  warning  he  had  received  from 
Nicol  within  the  hour — to  be  hopeful  and  on  the  alert. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  on  the  point  of  dashing  the  glass  in 
Ristack's  face  when  suddenly  Nicol  staggered  into  the  cabin 
exclaiming,  "  Drenk  it.  Drenk  the  toast !  why  of  course 
he'll  drenk  it  and  twenty  such.  Three  cheers  for  the  Anne 
of  Dartmouth  !  By  the  honor  of  bonnie  Scotland,  Admiral 
Ristack  is  just  the  grandest  master  that  ever  trod  a  British 
deck  !  " 

"  What  in  the  name  of  Satan's  this  ?  Out  you  go,  you 
Scotch  ragamuffin.  I'll  put  you  in  irons  and  flog  ye,  too  ; 
d'ye  hear  ?  " 

"  By  the  heavens  above  us,  ye  may  yardarm  me  and  I'll 
shout  three  cheers  for  the  Anne  o'  Dartmouth  and  three 
mair  for  the  Admiral  of  the  Fleet  !  " 


GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  GODS.      121 

Nicol  staggered  out  as  he  came,  the  two  admirals  smil- 
ing, and  Bentz  remarking,  "  They  say  there's  truth  in 
drink." 

"  I'm  afeared  it's  a  drunken  ship  this  night,"  said  Ristack. 
"  Mate,  see  to  it.  They've  won  their  extra  allowance,  that's 
sure  ;  but  stop  it.  And  I've  a  mind  to  make  an  example  of 
that  man  Nicol." 

"  Aye,  sir,"  said  the  mate,  leaving  the  cabin,  as  Keith, 
unable  to  resist  the  drink,  emptied  the  glass. 

"A  murrain  on  it.  Where's  the  grog? "said  Ristack, 
looking  at  Keith.  "  Did  ye  pronounce  the  toast  in  your 
throat  ?  Curse  me,  but  I'll  hear  it.  Here,  try  again." 

He  handed  Keith  another  glass. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Ristack,  "  to  it." 

"  A  health  to  you  all,  gentlemen,"  said  Keith.  "  Good 
luck  to  the  Anne  0'  Dartmouth"  and  he  gulped  down 
the  liquor. 

"  Ah,  ah,"  roared  Ristack,  "  I  knew  ye  to  be  a  rank 
coward,  a  weak-kneed  runagate.  Now  you  shall  drink 
'  good  luck '  to  Master  Bentz  in  his  love  for  Hannah  Plymp- 
ton  !  By  thunder  you  shall  !  " 

Keith  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  A  little  color  had  come 
into  his  pale  face,  a  glint  or  two  of  added  light  into  his 
eyes. 

"Stay,"  said  Ruddock.  "You  will  think  better  of  this 
in  the  mornin'." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Bentz,  also  interposing. 

"  Who  stays  me  ? "  exclaimed  Ristack.     "  Who  ?  " 

He  staggered  to  his  feet,  took  up  his  knife,  and  felt  the 
edge  of  it. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  you  Bentz,"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  and 
resheathing  his  knife,  as  if  some  new  drunken  thought  had 
come  into  his  head.  "  It's  all  right,  you  are  a  wicked  devil, 
you  know  you  are.  What's  his  pretty  little  plan,  do  you 
think  ?  " 


122  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

He  sat  down  once  more,  drank  another  glass  of  rum, 
stretched  his  legs,  and  rocked  his  thick,  coarse  body  to 
and  fro  with  a  drunken  chuckle. 

"  I  knew  you  were  a  coward  ;  and  if  I  promise  to  let  you 
go — not  to-morrow,  day  after — you'll  drink  that  toast ;  but 
it'll  be  all  over  then,  and  you  needn't.  The  lovely  Hannah 
is  comin'  on  board,  and  a  murrain  blight  all  such,  say  I, 
lovely  or  otherwise.  Bentz  brings  her  to  see  her  man,  and 
she  sees  Bentz — ah,  ah,  ah — curse  me  if  it  isn't  as  good  as  a 
play  !  " 

Ristack  almost  choked  himself  with  laughing.  In  the 
midst  of  his  fit,  the  mate  returning,  Ruddock  motioned  to 
him  to  remove  the  prisoner  ;  and  so  the  painful  scene  was 
brought  to  an  end.  Keith  had  felt  no  hurt  so  keenly  as  the 
insult  offered  to  his  wife,  aggravated  by  his  suppressed  rage 
and  passion.  But  he  had  noted  too  keenly  the  warning  of 
Nicol,  and  the  danger  the  faithful  fellow  had  run,  not  to 
make  every  possible  effort  to  maintain  an  appearance  of 
submission.  It  was  clear  that  his  fellow-countryman  had 
some  very  special  hope  of  rescue,  and  he  would  be  a  bad 
ally,  and  a  poor  general,  to  augment  his  friend's  risk  by  any 
want  of  self-denial  and  patience.  But  as  the  mate  led  him 
away,  he  ratified,  for  the  hundredth  time,  his  one  great  oath 
of  vengeance  on  Ristack  and  his  crew. 

"  Here,  you  bo's'n,  take  your  prisoner,"  said  the  mate, 
addressing  Keith's  jailer. 

The  boatswain  wished  Keith  at  the  deuce  and  the  mate 
too  at  that  moment,  and  was  not  a  little  rough  in  pushing 
Alan  before  him,  the  prisoner  hobbling  and  cursing  in  his 
irons. 

"Ah,  don't  be  hard  wi*  the  puir  deevil,"  said  Nicol,  who 
had  been  hovering  around  the  captain's  cabin. 

"Who  are  you  talking  to,  you  sot  !  "  exclaimed  the  boat- 
swain, thrusting  Nicol  aside,  the  cunning  Scotchman  reeling 
with  a  drunken  stagger  toward  the  hold. 


GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  GODS.      123 

"Allri',  bo's'n,"  said  Nicol.  "No  offense,  extra  grog, 
cap'n's  health  !  " 

"  Cursed  Scotchman  !  "  said  the  boatswain,  "  any  excuse 
to  get  drunk." 

"  Ri'  you  are,"  said  Nicol ;  "  le'  me  hold  the  lantern  for  ye." 

Nicol  put  out  his  hand  and  took  the  lantern,  the  boatswain 
willing  to  be  waited  upon. 

"  Hello  there,  Mark  Gowling,  where  are  the  men  I  left 
here?"  he  exclaimed,  missing  his  two  guardians  at  the 
hatchway. 

"  End  their  watch  ;  next  was  comin'  on  ;  extra  grog,"  said 
Nicol.  "  Le'  me  bear  hand." 

"If  you're  not  too  drunk,"  said  the  boatswain;  and  the 
three  disappeared. 

At  the  foot  of  the  ladder  it  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to 
fell  the  boatswain,  which  Nicol  did  heartily  ;  to  gag  him  was 
done  with  equal  precision  ;  to  bind  his  arms  and  legs  came 
still  easier. 

"  Steady,"  said  Nicol  to  Keith,  "  don't  move  ;  here  are 
the  keys." 

Keith's  irons  were  unlocked. 

"Stretch  your  legs,  my  laddie,"  said  Nicol;  "are  ye  a* 
reight  ?  " 

"•Yes,"  said  Keith. 

"  Here's  a  knife  and  a  pistol ;  follow  me  ;  kick  the  ladder 
down  as  ye  leave  it.  By  God  !  they're  at  it,  man  !  John 
Preedie  and  a  boat's  crew  have  come  on  deck  ;  dinna  ye 
hear  the  music  ?  Noo,  lad,  tak  the  time  frae  me  !  It's 
more  than  a  rescue,  it's  a  prize  !  " 

"Better  than  all,  its  vengeance  !  "  Alan  exclaimed,  as  he 
kicked  the  ladder  away  and  flung  down  the  hatchway  with 
a  bang. 

"To  the  captain's  cabin  !  "  exclaimed  Nicol. 

Keith  leapt  after  his  follower,  his  knife  in  his  hand,  murder 
in  his  heart. 


124  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  To  the  fo'c'sle,  Sandy  !  "  shouted  Nicol,  as  he  met  his 
comrade  and  the  Bristol  man  making  for  the  captain's  cabin  ; 
"leave  the  quality  to  us." 

Sandy  dashed  off  with  a  cry  of  triumph.  The  sight  of 
Keith  inspired  him  with  a  new  and  tremendous  energy.  He 
was  equal  to  any  six  opponents  ;  and  Damian,  the  dwarf, 
hewed  men  down  with  his  ax  as  if  they  had  been  dummies 
of  wood.  You  could  hear  his  shout  and  his  blows  all  over 
the  ship. 

Nicol  flung  open  the  door  of  the  captain's  cabin.  There 
had  been  sudden  cries  of  "A  mutiny  !  "  "The  Yankees  !  " 
"  Pirates  !  "  Ruddock,  snatching  a  cutlass  from  the  wall, 
was  making  for  the  deck.  Ristack  had  not  realized  so 
quickly  as  his  comrade  that  some  serious  trouble  had  broken 
out.  It  was  not  until  pistol  shots  were  heard  that  he  drew 
himself  up  and  buckled  his  belt.  As  Ruddock  dashed  out 
of  the  captain's  cabin  he  fell  into  the  brawny  arms  of 
Donald  Nicol.  The  two  men  gripped  each  other  in  a 
deadly  hug. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  Alan  Keith  seized  Ristack 
by  the  wrist  close  above  the  handle  of  the  long  knife  that 
flashed  in  the  admiral's  hand.  Lester  Bentz  crept  beneath 
the  admiral's  bunk  and  hid  himself  in  the  shadow  of  Ris- 
tack's  sea  chest. 

"  You  fiend  ! "  exclaimed  Alan,  with  a  wild  yell  of  laugh- 
ter that  might  have  shaken  the  nerves  of  a  far  more  valiant 
man  than  Ristack, "  I've  got  ye  !  Ye  black-hearted  coward  ! 
I  call  the  tune  now,  and,  by  the  Lord  !  ye  shall  dance  !  " 

One  hand  holding  his  wrist,  Alan  with  the  other  took  his 
enemy  by  the  throat  and  shook  him  until  he  rattled  above 
the  din  of  the  fight  that  could  now  be  heard  on  all  hands. 

Ristack  grew  purple  as  if  he  were  choking,  and  Bentz,  at 
his  feet,  quivered  with  a  sense  of  coming  dissolution. 

"  Dinna  fear  I  am  gaeing  to  kill  ye.  Not  yet !  "  said 
Alan,  who  in  his  hatred  of  the  man  was  forgetting  the  inter- 


GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  GODS.      1 25 

ests  of  his  own  brave  rescuers  and  friends.  "  Ye  shall  feel 
what  it  is  to " 

But  at  this  moment  Ristack  made  a  desperate  lunge 
forward,  and  his  knife  grazed  the  cheek  of  his  adver- 
sary. 

Alan  dragged  the  knife  from  his  grasp  and  flung  it  aside, 
at  the  same  time  turning  the  handle  of  his  own  weapon  that 
he  could  hit  Ristack  with  his  fist.  He  hit  him  fairly  and 
squarely  in  the  face.  "  Man,  I'll  nae  kill  ye  !  I'll  play  wi' 
ye  as  ye  do  when  ye  hae  gotten  a  man  i'  your  power  !  " 

Ristack  fell,  striking  his  head  against  the  sea  chest  and 
sprawling  so  near  to  Bentz  that  the  captain's  guest  had  to 
compress  himself  nearly  to  death  by  suffocation. 

Nicol  held  no  parley  with  his  man.  Nor  did  Ruddock 
speak.  They  were  too  seriously  engaged  for  angry  words. 
Their  curses  were  deep  enough,  no  doubt,  but  they  were 
unspoken.  It  was  a  wrestle  to  the  death.  Before  Alan 
Keith  had  struck  his  man  the  vice  admiral  was  flung  across 
the  table  with  a  crash  of  jugs  and  bottles,  and  there  was  a 
gash  in  his  throat  that  silenced  forever  the  voice  of  the 
ruffian  who  had  undertaken  to  show  Lester  Bentz  how  to 
woo  the  belle  of  Heart's  Delight. 

Ristack,  gaining  strength  as  the  effects  of  the  liquor  he 
had  drunk  wore  off  in  the  sudden  excitement  of  battle, 
struggled  once  more  to  his  feet. 

Alan,  with  the  blade  of  his  knife  directed  toward  him, 
was  about  to  strike,  when  once  more  the  passion  of  revenge 
provoked  him  to  think  of  something  more  terrible  than 
immediate  death. 

"  Nay,  ye  hellhound,  ye  shall  live  !  "  he  exclaimed  once 
more,  "  until  I  have  time  to  tell  ye  to  your  teeth  what  ye 
are  ;  till  I've  time  to  kill  ye  by  inches,  and  sail  wi'  ye  to 
the  Sooth  and  fling  ye  alive  to  the  sharks.  Oh,  I'll  get  even 
wi'  ye,  never  fear  !  Curse  ye  !  " 

And  again  Alan  struck  Ristack  in  the  face, 


126  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

"  Oot,  man,"  cried  Nicol  ;  "  ye  waste  time  ;  kill  the  deevil, 
kill  him  !  Hello,  ye  swine,  come  oot  o'  that  !  " 

It  was  Bentzwhom  Nicol  suddenly  espied  ;  but  before  he 
could  seize  him  the  mate  and  the  chief  carpenter  came  to 
the  aid  of  the  captain's  cabin,  and  Nicol  received  a  shrewd 
blow  from  the  butt-end  of  a  pistol.  As  Keith  turned  to  the 
defense  of  Nicol,  Bentz  picked  up  Ristack's  knife  and  thrust 
it  into  his  hand.  Ristack  struggled  to  his  feet,  and  was 
about  to  take  full  advantage  of  the  mate's  diversion  when 
the  ax  of  the  dwarf  swung  in  at  the  open  door,  and 
Keith,  catching  the  falling  arm  of  Ristack  aimed  at  his 
breast,  the  two  fell  together.  One  got  up  again  ;  it  was 
not  Ristack.  He  lay  dead  quiet  now,  and  Bentz  drew 
himself  into  such  small  compass  that  he  was  once  more 
overlooked. 

The  fight  now  drifted  away  from  the  cabin  to  the  gang- 
way, from  the  gangway  once  more  to  the  deck.  To  Bentz 
the  whole  ship  was  one  great  scene  of  riot  and  butchery. 
He  could,  however,  draw  his  breath  at  last  without  fear  of 
suffocation.  He  listened.  He  heard  yells  and  curses 
above  and  below ;  but  they  were  further  away.  The 
admiral's  cabin  was  still  as  death. 

"  Admiral  Ristack,"  he  whispered. 

The  admiral  made  no  reply. 

"  Master  Ruddock." 

The  vice  admiral  did  not  answer. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  on  me  !  "  said  Bentz. 

He  tried  to  move.  He  was  literally  barricaded  by  the 
body  of  Ristack.  He  stretched  forth  his  right  hand.  I 
came  in  contact  with  the  wet  face  of  his  host.  He  knew 
that  his  hand  was  red. 

"  Ristack,"  he  whispered. 

All  still. 

"Ruddock." 

No  answer. 


GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HO  USE  HOLD  GODS.      1 2  7 

"They  are  dead,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Oh,  gracious 
Heavens,  be  merciful  unto  thy  servant,  a  miserable  sinner  !  " 

Then  the  fight  seemed  to  break  out  afresh.  He  heard 
shouts  and  cries,  the  clash  of  steel,  and  now  and  then  a 
pistol  shot. 

"  Oh,  it's  awful — save  me,  good  Lord,  for  there  is  none 
other  that  fighteth  for  us  but  only  thou,  O  God  !  " 

If  the  wind  had  not  been  blowing  from  the  southwest 
they  must  have  heard  the  noise  of  the  battle  on  board  the 
Pioneer.  As  it  was  the  conflict  made  no  disturbance  in  the 
direction  of  the  other  vessels,  and  the  vice  admiral's  men, 
as  well  as  the  sailors  on  the  rear  admiral's  ship,  were 
happily  engaged  in  drinking  success  to  the  morrow's 
fishing. 

The  attack  and  capture  of  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth  did 
not  occupy  more  than  twenty  minutes.  To  Bentz  it  was  an 
age.  To  Keith  it  was  only  a  second.  From  the  moment 
that  Preedie  had  scrambled  aboard,  his  knife  between  his 
teeth,  his  boarding  cap  on  his  head,  with  the  dwarf  at  his 
heels  swinging  his  awful  ax,  the  eastern  man  with  his  pike, 
Bowers  with  his  cutlass,  and  Nick,  the  builder,  with  his  pistol, 
the  result  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  They  had  Scot  and 
the  Bristol  men  for  leaders.  Forming  two  parties  they 
went  to  work  with  courage  tempered  with  method.  Under 
the  astute  direction  of  Nicol,  and  with  Keith  in  the  fight, 
the  vessel  was  almost  won  at  the  first  blow  ;  but  not  without 
some  desperate  fighting.  The  eastern  man  fell  in  the  first 
encounter.  He  was  speedily  avenged  ;  but  Bowers  was 
literally  cut  down  by  the  mate,  who  in  his  turn  fell  before 
Damian's  ax. 

When  the  last  stand  had  been  made,  no  officer  being  left 
to  command,  Keith  shouted  :  "  Quarter  to  all  who  lay 
down  their  arms  !  " 

"  Agreed  !  "  was  the  reply  of  the  few  still  in  fighting 
trim.  Immediate  attention  was  given  to  the  wounded. 


128  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

Nicol  collected  the  arms  of  the  defeated.  The  prisoners 
were  marched  aft  under  guard. 

4<  Ye'll  not  be  put  in  irons,  men  ;  ye'll  be  well  treated  ; 
them  as  likes  to  take  service  under  Captain  Keith  can  sign 
new  articles  ;  they  that  wants  to  gae  ashore  can  do  sae  at 
the  first  convenient  port." 

"All  right,"  was  the  reply  of  the  majority,  while  two 
who  hated  Sandy  Scot  invited  him  to  go  to  a  certain  hot 
region.  Sandy  thanked  them  and  asked  them  meanwhile  to 
accompany  the  dwarf  to  the  hold.  On  a  manly  remon- 
strance from  another  of  the  crew,  who  was  known  to  be  an 
honest  kind  of  fellow,  Sandy  said,  "Weel,  comrade,  I'll  just 
leave  them  on  their  parole,  as  the  marines  say,  and  mak  you 
responsible  for  'em." 

"  Right,"  said  the  other,  and  the  men,  worn  out  with 
excitement  and  the  fumes  of  their  debauch,  flung  them- 
selves upon  deck  in  every  attitude  that  promised  change 
and  rest  for  limb  and  muscle. 

The  dead  being  counted  it  was  found  that  besides  Ristack 
and  Ruddock  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth  had  lost  six  men  and 
had  five  wounded.  The  attacking  party  had  to  regret  the 
eastern  man  and  Bowers,  who  was  now  indeed  Bowers  the 
Silent.  Preedie  was  badly  cut  across  the  face.  The  dwarf 
was  wounded  badly  enough  to  have  killed  most  men,  but 
he  made  light  of  it.  Neither  Nicol  nor  Keith  were  hurt,  and 
Sandy  Scot  counted  the  loss  of  a  finger,"  just  as  a  flea-bite." 

"  We'll  do  the  best  we  can  for  ye,"  said  Keith  to  the 
wounded,  "  until  we  get  ye  properly  doctored.  Your  own 
man  doesna  appear  to  be  on  board." 

"  He's  visiting  the  doctor  on  the  Pioneer"  said  one  of  the 
men. 

"  I  dare  say  we'll  find  plaster  enough,"  said  Keith,  "  and 
mind  ye  this,  we  bear  ye  nae  malice  ;  we'll  cure  ye  if  we 
can. 

"  And  now,  lads,  we'll  go  on  deck  and  drink  a  measure  to 


GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  GODS.      129 

Heart's  Content,"  said  Keith,  "and  anither  to  Donald  Nicol 
.and  Sandy  Scot  !  " 

"  Aye,  aye,"  shouted  the  little  crew,  some  of  them  binding 
up  their  wounds,  others  stretching  their  arms  and  muscles 
as  if  from  relief  from  the  strain  of  the  fight. 

The  steward  having  consented  to  wait  upon  the  visitors, 
grog  was  liberally  served.  After  Heart's  Content  had  been 
drunk  and  the  names  of  Nicol  and  Scot  duly  toasted,  John 
Preedie  proposed  that  Alan  Keith  should  be  elected  captain, 
and  that  the  Anne  should  be  called  the  Avenger. 

The  cheers  which  indorsed  Master  Preedie's  proposition 
were  heard  against  the  wind  on  board  Admiral  Ruddock's 
ship,  the  Pioneer,  whose  chief  mate,  listening  to  the  cheery 
shout,  remarked  that  the  Admiral  o£  the  Fleet  was  giving 
his  men  a  regular  old  Devonian  debauch. 

"  And  now,  dear  friend,"  said  Keith,  when  he  and  Preedie 
presently  sat  together  aft  while  Master  Bentz  prayed  for  his 
life  and  obtained  it  at  the  cost  of  his  liberty,  and  the  men 
were  busy,  under  the  direction  of  Nicol,  now  chief  mate, 
"  what  of  Heart's  Content  ?  " 

"  No  news  is  good  news,"  said  Preedie,  "  and  your  sweet 
wife  was  alive  when  I  left." 

"  Alive  !  "  said  Alan  in  an  anxious  whisper. 

"  She  had  been  sick,  as  you  know." 

"Nay,  I  didna,"  said  Alan. 

"I  hope  she  is  better,"  said  Preedie. 

"  I  must  see  her,"  said  Alan,  "  at  any  risk." 

"  I  will  not  say  ye  nay,  for  my  part." 

"Bear  wi"  me,  friend  ;  I'll  be  worthy  o"  your  trust  and 
faith.  'Twould  be  wise  to  up-anchor  and  out  to  sea,  any- 
way. There's  like  to  be  cruisers  at  St.  John's.  We  maun 
have  sea  room  to  overhaul  and  clear  decks.  When  we're 
rid  o'  the  men  we  dinna  want,  and  wha  dinna  want  us,  I  ken 
a  harbor  that's  made  for  us  !  " 

At  about  midnight  the  wind  came  out  fair  and  the  moon 


13°  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

appeared  fitfully.  Now  and  then  it  would  struggle  through 
a  gray  cloud,  and  for  a  moment  make  a  weird  reflection  upon 
the  sea.  Between  the  lights,  as  if  by  arrangement,  a  group 
of  men  on  the  lower  deck  amidships,  on  the  starboard  side, 
with  low  cries  of  "  Steady,  mates,"  and  "  Now,  boys,  ready," 
and  so  on,  flung  grim  and  weighty  things  into  the  sea. 

"  Let  'em  float  or  let  'em  sink,"  remarked  Dymoke,  the 
Lincolnshire  sailor,  "  I  reckon  we've  declared  oursens. 
Accordin'  to  the  law,  to  resist  authority  on  board  ship's 
mutiny — to  resist  and  win,  why  that's  piracy  ;  so  let  'em 
float  or  let  'em  swim,  our  flag  flies  free  !  " 

"  But  they're  to  have  Christian  burial  ;  our  ain  men,  God 
rest  'em,"  said  Sandy  Scot.  "  It  brakes  my  heart  to  think 
o'  that  gude  man  Borers  the  Silent  lyin'  low." 

As  the  last  of  the  dead  men  were  flung  out  into  the  sea, 
the  cry  of  "  All  hands  !  up  anchor  !  ahoy  !  "  rung  out  in  the 
strong  full  voice  of  the  new  boatswain.  The  men  responded 
with  a  will.  Sails  were  lowered,  yards  braced,  and  the 
anchor  was  raised  with  a  cheerful  "heave  ho."  Alan  Keith 
stood  upon  deck,  his  eyes  turned  toward  a  distant  star, 
poised,  as  he  thought,  right  over  the  spot  where  Hannah  and 
their  boy  David  were  encamped. 

The  first  morning  of  the  fishing  broke  calm  and  fair  and 
full  of  happy  promise.  The  caplin  were  racing  before  the 
swarming  cod,  and  making  every  now  and  then  a  splash  of 
silvery  brightness  upon  the  blue  waters  as  they  leaped  for- 
ward under  the  pressure  of  the  hunt.  Along  the  shore  in 
many  punts  the  poorer  folk  were  luring  the  fish  with  rival 
baits.  In  the  middle  distance  hundreds  of  heavily  manned 
boats  were  merrily  at  work  with  hook  and  line.  As  far  as 
the  eye  could  range  seaward  along  the  banks  white  sails 
were  seen,  as  if  a  fleet  of  British  yachts  had  met  for  sport, 
as  they  meet  in  our  day  at  Cowes.  Here  and  there  among 
the  boats  that  rose  and  fell  in  a  quiet  undulating  and  easy 
fashion,  brown-winged  skiffs  glided  to  and  fro. 


GRIM  OFFERINGS  TO  THE  HO  USE  HOLD  GODS.   1 3 1 

It  was  a  bright,  inspiriting  scene.  So  busy  was  it  that  not 
until  the  doctor  of  the  Anne  mentioned  to  the  mate  his 
desire  to  go  on  board  his  own  ship  to  breakfast  was  the 
Anne  missed.  The  lookout  could  report  nothing.  The 
mate,  with  the  ship's  most  powerful  glass,  could  see  no  signs 
of  her,  though  he  swept  the  horizon  as  it  were  inch  by  inch, 
yard  by  yard.  He  could  not  even  see  what  fate  had  left  by 
way  of  token  of  the  lost  ship. 

The  sea,  however,  seemed  conscious  of  its  load.  Two 
bodies  were  floating  into  the  harbor  of  Heart's  Delight. 
There  was  Ruddock,  with  his  gold  chain  and  his  showy 
jerkin  ;  Ristack  in  his  boots,  his  belt  tight  and  trim.  Rud- 
dock was  first  in  the  journey  shoreward  ;  Ristack  was  no 
longer  in  a  position  to  resent  Ruddock's  presumption. 
Ruddock,  on  the  other  hand,  was  incapable  of  rejoicing  in 
his  promotion  to  the  front.  They  were  not  far  apart.  The 
sea  appeared  to  understand  them.  It  gave  Ristack  a  deco- 
ration, as  if  to  make  him  equal  to  the  man  with  the  gold 
chain.  The  admiral  wore  a  crown  of  seaweed.  Ruddock 
floated  with  a  certain  motion  of  defiance.  His  head  seemed 
to  sway  about,  as  if  in  egotistical  deprecation  of  his  fellow- 
admiral.  Ristack  lumbered  along  with  a  sense  of  his  ques- 
tioned importance.  Caplin  and  cod  rushed  past  them, 
chased  and  chasing.  As  the  tide,  with  a  swirl,  made  for  the 
entrance  to  the  harbor  of  Heart's  Delight,  in  full  view  of 
the  great  house  which  was  to  be  furnished  for  the  Admiral 
of  the  Fleet,  lo  and  behold,  Admiral  Ristack  and  his  friendly 
coadjutor,  Vice  Admiral  Ruddock,  bumped  up  against  the 
sea-beat  piles  of  Plympton's  boathouse,  where  the  receding 
tide  left  them,  grim  offerings  of  fate  to  the  household  gods 
of  Heart's  Delight. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    TRAGIC    REVOLT    OF   ALAN    KEITH. 

BETWEEN  the  uninhabited  island  of  Nasquappe  and 
Demon's  Ridge,  on  the  northern  coast  of  Labrador,  lies  the 
sheltered  harbor  of  Wilderness  Creek,  of  which  Alan  Keith 
had  frequently  spoken  in  his  talks  with  Master  Plympton 
about  the  future  of  Newfoundland. 

At  the  main  entrance  from  the  sea  the  waves  thunder  in 
among  bowlders  and  solid  rock.  The  noise  of  the  breakers 
as  they  pound  the  iron  coast  can  be  heard  far  out  to  sea. 
The  exit  is  a  narrow  outlet  protected  by  steep  cliffs  that 
shelter  it  from  the  northern  rollers.  I  speak  of  entrance 
and  exit  advisedly,  for  either  way  and  both  are  open  for 
those  who  choose  to  enter.  Alan  Keith,  piloting  in  the 
Avenger,  was  the  first  ship's  master  who  had  ever  dared  to 
seek  the  shelter  and  repose  of  this  secret  and  almost  unknown 
harbor.  The  reader  will  remember  how  Keith  had  described 
its  capacity  to  his  neighbor  and  father-in-law.  He  had  not, 
however,  dreamed  that  he  might  one  day  drop  an  anchor 
there  for  such  a  ship  as  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth  after  such 
an  adventure  as  that  of  her  capture  and  change  of  name. 
"  Women  like  to  change  their  names,"  Keith  had  remarked, 
"  and  this  trull  o'  Ristack's  is  honored  in  her  new  one,  and 
by  all  the  saints  she  shall  be  the  virago  o'  these  northern 
watters."  Between  the  entrance  from  the  sea  and  the  exit 
was  this  bay,  of  which  Alan  had  spoken,  lying  as  still  and 
glassy  as  a  land-locked  lake.  No  kind  of  weather  made 
any  difference  in  its  calm  serenity.  Salt  as  the  outer  ocean, 
it  was  a  perfect  mirror  to  the  surrounding  rocks,  and  it 


THE    TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH.         133 

repeated  in  its  vast  depths  the  ribbed  sea  sand  that  fringed 
its  silent  margin. 

On  one  hand  the  harbor  was  bordered  by  a  sandy  beach 
strewn  with  bowlders  that  climbed  up  among  the  foothills  of 
a  tall  promontory  known  by  the  mariner  far  and  wide  as  a 
time-honored  warning  of  danger.  On  the  other  hand  the 
shore  was  a  wilderness  of  jagged  rock  and  stony  hollows,  a 
land  of  salty  barrenness  dotted  with  stunted  growths  of 
underwood  and  bracken,  the  home  of  sea  birds  and  other 
more  fearsome  fowl  in  the  shape  of  imps  and  fiends  of  the 
pit,  according  to  well-approved  tradition.  In  spring  Wilder- 
ness Creek  was  accessible  ;  and  to  him  it  was  a  land  of 
promise  and  fair  weather. 

The  promontory  was  called  Demon's  Rock.  It  had,  at 
times  of  storm  and  tempest,  cast  its  awful  shadow  over 
sailors  wrecked  at  the  very  entrance  of  the  unknown 
harbor,  into  which  their  broken  ships  with  daring  helms- 
men at  the  wheel  might  have  been  steered,  and  defied  the 
wildest  storm  ;  but  this  coast  of  Labrador  was  to  the 
general  voyager  a  God  forgotten  region.  None  suspected 
it  of  the  possibilities  which  had  struck  Alan  Keith  in  his 
first  fishing  cruise  among  its  strange  and  dangerous  waters. 
At  the  base  of  Demon's  Rock  was  a  wide-mouthed  cavern. 
Its  entrance  was  a  kind  of  natural  hallway  ;  it  might  have 
been  the  approach  to  some  giant's  castle. 

Penetrating  its  depths  you  soon  became  conscious  of  a 
light  like  a  star  shining  afar  off.  Then  your  level  path  was 
impeded  by  an  obstruction  of  rock  and  shingle.  This  was 
only  the  first  of  many  natural  ridges  of  rock,  steps  that  led 
to  the  light,  which  was  an  outlet  from  the  cavern  into  the 
opening  country  beyond.  Alan  Keith  had  climbed  this 
stairway,  and  following  a  narrow,  shingly  trail,  had  eventu- 
ally come  upon  a  stretch  of  pleasant  country,  where  the 
berry-bearing  plants  of  the  peninsula  of  Labrador  grew 
in  great  variety.  They  consisted  of  partridge  berries, 


134  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL 

whortleberries,  wild  currants,  and  gooseberries,  and  as 
Keith  had  made  his  most  notable  excursion  in  the  autumn, 
he  had  become  acquainted  with  the  horticultural  riches  of 
Labrador  when  most  he  could  appreciate  them.  Mosses  of 
many  colors,  ferns,  tall  grasses,  and  wild  flowers  made  this 
oasis  in  the  desert  a  little  garden  of  paradise  in  summer, 
and  there  were  days  even  in  the  severest  winter  when  the  air 
was  dry  and  exhilarating,  and  the  skies  a  bright  and  lovely 
blue.  Traveling  a  mile  or  two  further  afield,  Keith  had 
found  himself  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  fiords  of  the 
district,  bounded  with  noble  forest  trees,  while  game  was  as 
abundant  as  the  most  ardent  hunter  could  desire.  Here  he 
had  seen  an  encampment  of  Micmacs  ;  but  both  Indians 
and  Esquimaux  appeared  to  be  as  shy  of  Wilderness  Creek 
as  the  navigators  of  the  sea.  It  is  true  there  was  a  trail 
from  the  cave  of  Demon's  Rock  that  came  eventually  upon 
the  little  paradise  of  berry  plants  and  flowers,  but  it  was 
vague  and  uncertain,  and  had  no  appearance  of  recent  use. 
Keith,  judging  from  Plympton's  information  relating  to  the 
old  country's  troubles  with  the  French,  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  this  trail  was  a  relic  of  the  earliest  inhabitants  of 
those  latitudes,  used  afterward  by  the  Micmacs,  who  had, 
during  their  incursions,  annihilated  the  unwarlike  aborig- 
ines, to  become  themselves  victims  to  the  dominant  race. 
The  Micmacs  were  from  Cape  Breton  and  Novia  Scotia. 
They  were  more  or  less  allies  of  the  French,  and  were 
supposed  to  have  invaded  the  island  in  their  interests  ;  but 
the  chief  antipathies  of  the  Micmacs  appear  to  have  been 
exercised  against  the  aborigines,  whom  they  slew  or  starved 
out  of  existence.  The  Micmacs  established  fishing  and 
hunting  grounds,  and  increased  and  multiplied,  but  only 
for  a  time.  The  latest  historical  incident  connected  with 
their  settlement  in  Newfoundland  is  connected  with  the 
governorship  of  Sir  Thomas  Duckworth,  who  in  1810  was 
appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the  island  of  Newfound- 


THE    TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH.         135 

land  and  the  islands  adjacent,  including  those  of  St.  Pierre 
and  Miquelon,  and  all  the  coast  of  Labrador,  from  the 
River  St.  John's  to  Hudson's  Straits,  and  the  island  of 
Anticosti  and  others  adjacent,  made  a  voyage  which 
extended  to  the  principal  northern  settlements  and  also  to 
the  little  known  country  of  Labrador.  In  the  latter  region 
he  addressed  a  proclamation  to  the  Micmacs,  Esquimaux, 
and  others,  assuring  them  of  the  protection  of  the  king.  He 
further  exhorted  them  to  live  peaceably  together  and  avoid 
all  causes  of  violence  and  bloodshed.  He  took  great 
interest  in  the  Indians  of  Newfoundland,  and  opened  com- 
munications with  a  tribe  on  the  Exploits  River.  Here  with 
an  expedition  of  130  men  he  induced  four  Indians  to  go 
away  with  him,  leaving  two  marines  as  hostages.  The 
Indians  were  to  return  with  presents  and  pledges  of  peace. 
They  did  return  with  their  escort,  to  find  the  two  marines 
brutally  murdered,  their  bodies  bristling  with  arrows.  The 
English  interest  in  the  Indians  since  that  time  has  no  doubt 
been  equally  sincere,  but  in  our  day  Newfoundland  has 
buried  the  last  of  the  Micmacs.  Had  the  home  govern- 
ments of  the  time  shown  anything  like  a  sympathetic  inter- 
est in  the  English  settlers,  the  fishery  and  other  claims  of 
France  would  have  been  just  as  completely  laid  at  rest. 

In  the  early  days  of  his  courtship  of  Hannah  Piympton, 
and  after  their  happy  marriage,  Alan  Keith  had  speculated 
upon  the  advantages  of  a  settlement  hereabouts,  with  such 
winter  arrangement  of  stores  and  provisions  as  would  make 
the  ice  and  snow  as  welcome  as  the  summer  sun  and  shower. 
He  had  in  his  mind  that  safe  and  sheltered  harbor  of  Wil- 
derness Creek  for  the  laying  up  of  ships  and  boats  locked 
in  with  icy  bergs,  and  yet  sheltered  from  the  belt  of  North- 
ern storms  of  sleet  and  snow,  a  veritable  retreat  from  the 
influences  of  envy  and  free  from  the  attacks  of  avarice. 
Piympton  had  smiled  at  his  stories  of  the  place,  knowing 
the  character  it  bore,  and  having  had  in  days  gone  by  some 


I3<>  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

experience  of  its  danger  and  its  icy  gales.  As  for  Wilder- 
ness Creek  affording  an  entrance  for  anything  larger  than  a 
cockleboat,  Plympton  paid  tribute  to  Alan's  seamanship  in 
questioning  if  any  other  Newfoundland  fisherman  would 
risk  a  smack  in  the  attempt.  Any  comparison  between 
Wilderness  Creek  and  St.  John's,  where  a  chain  was  drawn 
across  the  gate-like  entrance  to  the  harbor,  was  out  of  the 
question,  seeing  that  you  entered  St.  John's  from  the  open 
sea,  while  Wilderness  Creek  was  approached  through  water- 
ways  beset  with  hidden  rocks,  by  shoals,-  and  deviltries  of 
all  kinds,  the  creek  itself  acting  as  a  sucker  to  drag  a  boat 
to  destruction.  Plympton  contended  that  Alan  must  have 
found  some  other  course  than  that  of  Wilderness  Creek  ; 
but  Alan  knew  that  the  father  of  Heart's  Delight  empha- 
sized his  objections  to  Labrador  because  he  loved  the  set- 
tlement that  was  his  home  ;  and  Alan,  finding  the  Northern 
coast  and  its  inland  country  so  much  better  than  its  reputa- 
tion, was  inclined  to  paint  it  in  exaggerated  colors.  He 
had  not,  however,  done  Wilderness  Creek  and  its  lonely 
harbor  any  more  than  justice.  It  is  true  he  was  a  skillful 
navigator,  but  he  was  more,  he  was  both  wise  and  cautious. 
He  had  made  a  regular  sailing  chart  of  the  course  into 
Wilderness  Creek,  and  had  sailed  his  smack  over  it  in  all 
weathers,  after  and  before  the  fishing.  Spring  and  early 
autumn  were  the  seasons  when  he  best  knew  the  rock- 
strewn  coast,  and  he  had  declared  to  his  father-in-law  that 
the  way  into  the  creek  was  "  as  safe  as  a  canal." 

If  only  Plympton  had  listened  with  faith  to  Alan,  or  Alan 
had  acted  upon  the  instinctive  alarm  of  Plympton  as  to  the 
future  of  Newfoundland,  what  happiness  might  have  been 
in  store  for  them  and  for  Hannah  and  the  infant,  David 
Keith,  whose  young  life,  which  had  begun  with  promise  of 
fair  weather,  was  now  beset  with  perilous  storm  and  tempest. 

Not  even  the  romantic  and  fiery  Scotchman's  bitterest 
enemy  could  have  invented  the  sad  and  dreary  circum- 


THE    TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH.         137 

stances  under  which  he  came  to  seek  the  protection  of 
Wilderness  Creek.  His  first  daring  act  of  reckless  courage 
and  loving  devotion,  after  the  sanguinary  vengeance  he  and 
his  comrades  had  taken  upon  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth,  was 
to  seek  the  new  settlement  of  Heart's  Content. 

At  a  point  or  two  beyond  the  neck  of  land  which  had  run 
out  into  the  sea  like  a  sheltering  arm  of  comfort  to  Heart's 
Delight,  Keith  had  landed  in  the  disguise  of  his  stubble 
beard  and  haggard  face,  supplemented  with  some  unfamiliar 
garments  found  on  board  Ristack's  ship,  and  had  made  his 
way  to  Back  Bay  Valley,  only  to  find  his  worst  fears  fulfilled. 
He  stood  on  the  fringe  of  the  little  cemetery,  that  had  been 
marked  out  by  reverent  hands,  to  witness  its  inauguration 
with  all  that  remained  of  the  sweet  and  angelic  woman  who 
had  blessed  him  with  her  wifely  companionship  and  was  the 
mother  of  his  infant  son. 

He  knew,  the  moment  that  he  set  foot  in  the  new  settle- 
ment, that  the  rough  pine  coffin  covered  with  wild  flowers 
enshrouded  the  woman  of  all  others  in  the  world  whom  it 
seemed  to  him  the  Almighty  might  have  spared,  not  for  him 
alone,  but  for  the  good  of  all  creation — too  good  and  beauti- 
ful, he  knew,  for  so  worldly  and  coarse  a  comrade  as  himself, 
but  one  whom  he  could  worship  as  a  type  of  all  that  was 
heavenly,  sweet,  and  true. 

He  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the  sorrowful  crowd,  and 
joined  speechless,  yet  with  all  his  aching  heart  and  soul,  in 
the  holy  service  that  Father  Lavello  read  and  chanted  over 
the  coffin  and  the  flowers.  He  listened  to  the  priest's 
eloquent  prophecy  of  bliss  for  her  holy  spirit.  Alan  did 
not  murmur  a  single  word  of  prayer  or  hope,  but  the  tears 
fell  down  his  sunken  cheeks,  heavy  drops  of  agony.  He 
had  not  the  heart  to  speak  to  a  soul  then  or  thereafter,  but 
he  allowed  them  to  go  away — his  father-in-law  Plympton, 
the  good  priest,  Pat  Doolan,  Sally,  the  nurse,  and  the  rest 
of  his  friends  and  companions, 


138  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

When  night  came  he  crept  to  the  spot  where  they  had 
laid  her,  and  fell  upon  his  face.  "  Oh,  just  Heaven  !  give 
her  back  to  me  ! "  he  cried.  "  Mother  of  God,  what  hae  I 
dune  to  be  sae  afflicted  ?  "  The  leaves  rustled  in  the  trees, 
and  a  night  bird  called  to  its  mate.  "  Dear  wife — sweet- 
heart, if  I  could  only  have  held  ye  in  my  arms  and  said 
good-by — a  sma'  mercy  that,  God  knows!"  Then  he 
groveled  by  the  grave,  and  prayed  that  he  might  pass  away 
there  and  end  his  woes  forever.  When  the  dews  of  morn- 
ing mingled  their  tears  with  his  he  kissed  the  wet  earth  that 
lay  soft  and  tearful  above  her,  and  went  his  way  another 
man  :  not  the  chastened  sinner,  intent  on  making  himself 
worthy  to  meet  her  in  heaven.  All  the  good  that  was  in 
him,  when  her  voice  was  heard  in  the  land,  seemed  to  fall 
away  from  him  as  he  strode  out  for  the  beach  where  his 
boat  was  lying.  He  was  once  more  the  avenger,  his  soul 
tossed  upon  a  sea  of  passion.  The  soul  of  Nero  had  entered 
his  bosom,  untempered  even  by  one  single  thought  of  his 
child.  It  was  strange  that  his  love  for  Hannah  should 
not  have  made  him  keenly  sensible  of  that  legacy  of  her 
love  ;  but,  losing  her,  the  great  world  of  good  was  a 
blank. 

A  natural  sympathy  with  religious  hopes  and  fears  might 
have  made  him  thoughtful  of  the  things  that  Hannah  might 
have  liked  him  to  do,  had  she  been  able  to  guide  him  with 
her  human  aspirations.  But  it  was  as  if  the  devil  had  taken 
possession  of  him.  Had  Father  Lavello,  being  an  unusually 
enlightened  priest  for  those  days,  been  consulted  upon 
Keith's  state  of  mind,  he  would  have  proceeded  to  exorcise 
the  fiend  that  had  entered  into  the  body  of  his  otherwise 
honest  and  manly  parishioner  at  Heart's  Content.  Keith 
had  given  Back  Bay  Valley  this' name  of  happy  augury,  but 
it  cast  no  sunny  light  upon  his  soul  ;  it  only  breathed  to 
him  of  the  direst  misfortune  on  account  of  which  in  his 
madness  he  conceived  himself  entitled  to  the  direst  ven- 


THE    TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH.         139 

geance  even  upon  those  who  had  had  no  hand  in  the  misery 
that  had  befallen  him. 

Without  a  word  to  any  living  soul  he  left  the  new-made 
grave,  and  strode  away  to  the  rendezvous  where  his  boat 
awaited  him.  Plympton  would  hardly  have  known  his 
familiar  friend,  had  he  met  him  bending  his  way  along  un- 
accustomed forest  paths,  breaking  through  tangled  jungle, 
now  bursting  out  upon  stretches  of  open  shore  and  shingle, 
a  gaunt  giant,  pressing  forward  on  some  tremendous 
mission. 

Pride  in  an  angel  made  the  first  devil.  Unrequited  love 
has  changed  gentle  natures  to  bloody  murderers.  Misfor- 
tune will  make  a  hell  of  a  veritable  paradise.  Injustice  and 
misfortune,  twin  spoilers  of  happy  homes,  had  turned  all 
that  was  great  and  good  and  pure  in  Alan  Keith's  nature  to 
gall  and  wormwood,  to  sour  and  bitter,  to  deviltry  and 
debauch. 

Not  alone  under  the  curse  of  the  fishing  admirals,  but 
under  the  vengeful  action  of  Alan  Keith,  both  Heart's 
Delight  and  Heart's  Content  became  a  desolation  of  justice 
and  revenge.  Troops  from  the  garrison  of  St.  John's 
marched  upon  Heart's  Content  and  took  away  David  Plymp- 
ton, Patrick  Doolan,  and  three  other  settlers  on  charges  of 
high  treason.  They  were  put  on  board  a  war  ship  that  had 
come  round  in  defense  of  the  fisheries  to  be  met  with  the 
tokens  of  revolt  that  Heart's  Delight  and  the  Rear  Admiral 
of  the  Fishing  Fleet  had  found  in  the  mutilated  bodies  of 
Ristack  and  Ruddock,  grim  and  ghastly  lodgers  in  the  ooze 
that  rankled  round  the  piles  of  Plympton's  boathouse  and 
fish  stage.  The  settlement  of  Heart's  Delight  being  already 
broken  up,  its  humble  homes  in  ruins,  the  Governor  of  St. 
John's,  stimulated  by  the  hope  of  distinction  and  reward,  con- 
cluded to  root  out  the  settlement  whose  traitorous  founders 
had  been  known  to  express  sympathy  with  the  rebellious 
colonists,  and  who  were  suspected  on  reliable  evidence  of 


14°  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

leaguing  with  the  mutineers  of  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth. 
The  disappearance  of  John  Preedie,  the  Eastern  man, 
Bowers  the  Silent,  Damian,  the  dwarf,  Dick,  the  builder,  and 
others  the  most  resolute  of  the  men  of  Heart's  Delight,  was 
a  sufficient  vindication  of  the  action  of  St.  John's. 

It  was  in  many  ways  an  historic  and  tragic  season,  the 
fishing  that  last  saw  the  admirals  in  full  and  uncontrolled 
authority  on  the  coasts  and  settlements  of  Newfoundland  ; 
and,  in  spite  of  watchful  cruisers,  which  had  plenty  to  do 
to  hold  the  English  commerce  of  the  seas  from  the  ravages 
of  hostile  fleets,  the  Pioneer  and  her  consort,  with  his  rear 
admiral's  ensign  flying,  were  captured  and  burnt,  the  light  of 
their  oily  cargoes,  the  fiery  flakes  of  their  flaming  ropes  and 
tackle  illuminating  the  desolated  shores  of  Heart's  Delight. 
The  crews,  stripped  of  everything  they  possessed,  were 
allowed  to  put  off  in  boats  unarmed  and  unprovisioned,  all 
except  the  Rear  Admiral  of  the  Fleet,  who  was  hanged  at 
his  own  yardarm,  where  he  swung  to  and  fro  in  the  fire  until 
he  fell,  a  crackling  mass,  into  the  sea. 

But  the  booty  which  Alan  Keith  promised  his  comrades 
had  yet  to  come,  and  come  it  did  with  startling  rapidity. 
He  was  no  respecter  of  nationalities  ;  he  was  a  Yankee  when 
it  pleased  his  fancy,  and  a  Britisher  when  most  he  honored 
a  foreign  foe.  The  ship  in  which  he  achieved  his  greatest 
victories,  or,  as  the  home  government  would  have  described 
them,  his  worst  outrages,  was  the  St.  Dennis,  a  French  sloop 
of  war  of  thirty  guns.  The  capture  was  made  a  few  leagues 
away  from  the  northernmost  point  of  Labrador.  The 
Avenger,  in  response  to  the  Frenchman's  salute,  hoisted  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  The  Frenchman  put  off  a  boat,  and 
invited  the  Yankee  to  come  aboard.  Alan  Keith  accepted 
the  invitation.  He  related  something  of  his  grievances 
against  the  mother  country,  and  showed  the  papers  with 
which  Plympton  had  intrusted  Preedie.  The  Frenchman 
was  hilarious  over  the  successes  he  had  already  won  at  sea 


THE    TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH.         141 

in  attacks  on  British  commerce,  and  Alan  Keith  gave  vent 
to  his  aspirations  for  the  freedom  of  the  colonies  and  his 
glory  in  the  new  flag  of  liberty.  Furthermore,  Alan  spoke 
of  his  capture  and  burning  of  the  fishing  ships,  and  the 
Frenchman  explained  and  advocated  the  rightful  claims  of 
his  country  to  all  the  fishing  grounds  of  Newfoundland  and 
to  the  entire  island  itself.  Keith  found  it  rather  difficult  to 
sympathize  with  his  host  in  regard  to  the  French  pretensions 
to  Newfoundland,  having  listened  to  many  a  gallant  yarn  of 
Plympton's  in  which  French  attacks  had  been  gloriously 
defeated  against  overwhelming  odds.  Nevertheless  he 
drank  the  ship's  wine,  praised  her  prowess,  and  expressed  a 
hope  that  France  and  America  would  divide  between  them 
the  great  New  World. 

One  of  the  Frenchman's  prizes  was  a  Bristol  merchant- 
man, fairly  armed  and  considered  safe  to  hold  her  own, 
having  on  board  considerable  treasures  of  gold  and  precious 
stones  ;  but  in  an  evil  hour  she  had  been  compelled  to  ship 
in  a  foreign  port  a  fresh  crew  who  had  not  the  courage  of 
Western  men  in  face  of  spiteful  odds  and  powerful  guns ; 
and  so  the  best  of  her  cargo  was  on  board  the  Frenchman. 

When  Alan  Keith  returned  to  the  Avenger  he  held  a 
council  of  war  and  strategy,  and  laid  before  his  officers  and 
men  a  plan  of  surprise  which  should  give  them  not  only 
booty,  but  a  new  ship  with  which  they  might  hope  to  meet 
a  certain  British  vessel,  reported  by  a  Yankee  scout  to  be  on 
her  way  with  specie  to  pay  the  English  troops  at  Boston. 

The  captain  of  the  Frenchman  accepted  the  return 
courtesy  of  the  rebel,  and  it  was  agreed  that  the  two  ships 
should  cruise  in  company  and  support  each  other  in  any 
operation  that  might  make  such  alliance  desirable. 

Keith  had  no  sentiment  of  the  sacred  rights  of  hospitality. 
It  mattered  nothing  to  him  that  he  had  broken  bread  with 
the  Frenchman,  the  Frenchman  with  him  ;  all  was  fair  or 
foul,  he  cared  not  which  so  that  he  achieved  his  end. 


142  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

Indeed,  he  did  not  stop  to  consider  what  was  fair  or  foul  in 
love  or  war ;  and  he  had  infused  the  same  devilish  spirit 
into  his  men. 

It  blew  a  gale  the  next  day,  and  Keith  allowed  his  ship 
to  get  into  difficulties.  She  would  not  answer  her  helm ; 
the  helmsman  took  care  that  she  should  not,  except  to  let 
her  drift  upon  the  Frenchman  in  such  a  way  that  the  booms 
and  rigging  of  the  two  vessels  became  sufficiently  entangled 
for  carrying  out  the  infamous  plot  of  the  English  com- 
mander. When  the  Frenchman  was  most  engaged  in  help- 
ing his  ally,  Keith's  crew,  armed  to  the  teeth,  suddenly 
sprang  upon  the  unsuspecting  Frenchman's  deck,  and  almost 
without  a  blow  made  prize  of  the  rich  and  splendidly 
equipped  cruiser. 

Dismantling  his  own  guns,  removing  such  stores  as  might 
be  useful  on  the  prize,  crippling  the  Avenger  either  for 
offense  or  defense,  the  foreigners  were  transferred  to  the 
now  discarded  ship  on  board  of  which  Admiral  Ristack  had 
sailed  into  the  peaceful  harbor  of  Heart's  Delight. 

The  change  from  one  ship  to  the  other  was  not  made 
without  some  trouble,  not  to  say  danger,  for  the  men  of  the 
St.  Dennis  far  outnumbered  those  of  the  Avenger,  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  operation  the  lookout  announced  "a 
strange  sail,"  and  in  his  next  breath  pronounced  her  "  a 
three-decker."  Keith  took  the  glass  himself,  and  indorsed 
the  correctness  of  the  lookout's  vision. 

"  Noo,  my  lads,  cast  off  the  mossoos  !  Is  that  the  last 
boat?" 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir." 

"  Let  her  go." 

"  She's  away,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  as  the  Avenger's 
whale  boat  plunged  into  the  foam  and  made  for  the  St. 
Dennis,  that  was  lying  to  somewhat  uncomfortably,  the  wind 
still  blowing  half  a  gale. 

"  Noo,  Scot,"  shouted  Alan,  "  see  if  the  Frenchman  under- 


THE    TRAGIC  REVOLT  OF  ALAN  KEITH.         143 

stands  ye  as  well  as  the  ship  ye've  just  left.  Hard  up  with 
your  helm  !  We'll  show  the  stranger  a  clean  pair  o'  heels. 
She  carries  a  real  old  British  vice  admiral's  flag,  and  has 
three  rows  of  teeth  just  as  angry  as  a  shark's.  Head  up, 
man  !  What  ails  ye  ?  Now,  Nicol,  my  son,  all  hands,  pack 
on  all  sail  !  From  royal  to  stunsail.  Handy,  man  !  It's 
cursed  strange  if  a  French  cruiser  doesna  answer  her  helm 
when  it's  to  run  before  the  foe  !  That's  it.  Cheerily,  my 
lads,  and  now  for  Wilderness  Creek  with  extra  grog  and  a 
division  of  booty  !  " 

The  Avenger  slopped  up  and  down  in  the  foaming 
waters,  waiting  to  see  the  capture  of  their  treacherous 
enemy,  and  the  great  mountainous  Britisher  came  on  under 
a  heavy  pressure  of  canvas  on  her  trip  of  inquiry  and  in- 
vestigation. Alan  Keith  had  not  deigned  to  answer  her 
signals  ;  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  get  away  from  her. 

"  It's  no  dishonor,  lads,"  he  said,  "  to  show  this  vice 
admiral  our  stern,  all  the  mair  that  we  dinna  yet  under- 
stand our  French  lassie's  ways.  By ,  lads,  she's  coming 

down  upon  us  ;  we'll  barely  clear  her  broadside  if  she 
delivers  it.  Ah,  ah,  he  kens  we'll  do  it !  " 

It  was  a  narrow  escape,  for  the  mighty  hail  of  lead  hurtled 
past  them.  It  seemed  as  if  the  St.  Dennis  had  herself 
caught  the  scent  of  danger  and  was  willing  to  fly.  The 
next  moment,  bending  before  the  wind  that  filled  every  sail, 
she  fairly  bounded  over  the  waves,  her  course  dead  on 
toward  Demon's  Rock. 

The  warship  gave  chase,  and  sent  a  shot  or  two  in  the 
wake  of  the  cruiser  to  keep  the  game  alive,  but  the  St. 
Dennis  had  gradually  drawn  out  of  range.  Then  the  enemy 
maneuvered  smartly,  for  so  large  a  vessel,  to  come  by  the 
wind  and  lay  the  retreating  ship  once  more  under  her  guns, 
evidently  expecting  the  St.  Dennis  to  change  her  course, 
which  otherwise  must  land  her  upon  the  rocks  of  Labrador. 
Several  of  Keith's  own  men,  in  whispers,  questioned  the 


144  UNDER   THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

wisdom  of  trying  to  make  Wilderness  Creek  in  such  a  gale. 
They  had  made  their  first  entrance  through  the  rocky 
waterways  in  fine  weather.  The  dangers  were  sufficiently 
apparent  then,  but  now,  with  the  clouds  so  heavy  that  it  was 
difficult  to  say  which  was  sea  and  which  sky,  and  with  a  ship 
that  was  new  to  them,  even  Donald  Nicol  questioned  the 
wisdom  of  his  chief  in  steering  for  the  secret  harbor. 

"  Better  die  fighting  our  ship  than  broken  to  bits  on  the 
rocks,"  said  Nicol. 

Keith  heard  the  remark.  It  was  intended  for  him.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  it.  While  he  issued  his  orders  as 
calmly  as  if  he  were  piloting  a  yacht  on  a  calm  and  sunny 
lake,  he  watched  intently  the  chasing  ship. 

"  She  leaves  us  to  our  fate,"  he  said  presently  to  Preedie, 
who  stood  by  his  side.  "Ah,  ah  !  my  lads,  she  quits  the 
chase.  By  the  honor  o'  bonnie  Scotland,  if  she'd  raked  us 
once  we'd  been  lost !  " 

The  commander  of  the  three-decker  was  not  to  be  tempted 
beyond  the  line  of  safe  navigation.  He  lay  to  and  watched 
the  cruiser  as  she  pelted  on  her  way  to  what  not  he  alone, 
but  safer  mariners  on  board  the  flying  ship,  regarded  as  her 
sure  and  unavoidable  destruction. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    MYSTERIES   OF    WILDERNESS   CREEK. 

APART  from  the  natural  dangers  of  that  part  of  the 
coast  which  was  dominated  by  Demon's  Rock,  mariners 
had  other  reasons  for  giving  the  waters  of  Wilderness 
Creek  a  wide  berth.  Grim  and  forbidding  as  are  the 
thousand  miles  of  the  Atlantic  coast  of  Labrador,  the 
region  which  included  Nasquappe  and  Wilderness  Creek 
was  a  concentration  of  its  horrors.  During  countless  ages 
the  frosts  and  storms  of  winter,  like  untiring  sculptors, 
have  been  carving  the  rocks  into  fantastic  shapes,  nowhere 
more  strange  and  weird  than  where  they  guard  the  navi- 
gable current  that  Keith  had  discovered. 

Borne  on  the  winds  from  this  area  of  Nasquappe,  sailors 
off  Labrador  heard  in  the  air,  and  on  the  tops  about  the 
masts,  a  great  clamor  of  voices,  confused  and  mixed,  such 
as  you  may  hear  from  a  crowd  at  a  fair  or  in  a  market 
place  ;  whereupon  they  knew  that  the  Island  of  Demons 
was  not  far  away.  In  the  old  charts  it  is  marked  with 
devils  rampant,  having  horns  and  tails. 

The  sailors  of  those  days  had  woeful  privileges  that  do 
not  belong  to  their  successors.  They  had  seen  the  Flying 
Dutchman  beating  round  Cape  Horn.  They  had  seen  the 
phantom  ship  of  the  Cornish  wrecker  in  cloudy  squalls  sail- 
ing over  sea  and  land  ;  the  Scotch  "  Meggie  of  the  Shore," 
with  her  visions  of  spectral  boats  that  were  doomed  ;  and 

The  specter  ship  of  Salem,  with  the  dead  men  in  her  shrouds, 
Sailing  sheer  above  the  water  in  the  looming  moving  clouds. 


146  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

They  had  seen  the  demons  of  the  storm,  the  mermaid  with 
her  comb  and  glass,  the  sea  serpent  with  his  fiery  eyes  ; 
they  had  spoken  dead  men's  ghosts. 

With  the  legends  of  the  Labrador  coast  they  mixed 
stories  that  were  half  the  truth,  and  traditions  that  hold 
their  place  in  poetry  and  romance.  Whittier,  the  American 
poet,  tells  of  a  phantom  ship  which  mariners  a  hundred 
years  ago  would  swear  to.  The  young  captain  of  the 
schooner  visited  the  Labrador  coast,  where  in  a  secluded 
bay  lived  two  beautiful  sisters  with  their  Catholic  mother — 
both  fell  in  love  with  the  handsome  skipper,  who,  however, 
was  devoted  to  the  younger  of  the  two.  She  was  shut  up 
in  her  room  by  the  mother  just  at  the  moment  when  she 
had  arranged  to  meet  her  lover  and  fly  with  him.  Her 
elder  sister,  profiting  by  her  absence,  went  in  her  place  and 
was  carried  out  to  sea  in  the  skipper's  vessel.  On  learning, 
the  deception  that  had  been  practiced  upon  him,  he  returned 
to  find  his  sweetheart  dead,  and  no  more  in  life  was  seen 
of  the  skipper  or  his  ship. 

But  even  yet  at  Seven-Isle  Bay 

Is  told  the  ghastly  tale 

Of  a  weird  unspoken  sail. 
She  flits  before  no  earthly  blast, 
With  the  red  sign  fluttering  from  her  mast, 

The  ghost  of  the  schooner  Breeze, 

A  noted  legend  of  the  adjacent  Belle  Isle  was  told  in 
fo'c's'le  yarns  in  the  days  of  which  I  am  speaking  ;  how 
Roberval  had  put  on  shore  from  his  fleet  the  Lady  Mar- 
guerite, niece  of  the  then  Viceroy  of  New  France,  and  her 
lover,  whose  conduct  had  scandalized  him  during  the  voy- 
age out  from  home.  He  selected  for  their  punishment  the 
Island  of  Demons.  Here  the  unhappy  pair  were  attacked 
by  the  fiends.  The  sailors  could  tell  you  how  many  of 
them  there  were,  and  the  particular  form  of  their  horns  and 
tails,  and  the  horrid  grin  of  their  fiery  jaws  ;  and  they  could 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF   WILDERNESS  CREEK.      14? 

tell  you  of  the  whiteness  and  purity  of  the  band  of  saints 
that  came  to  the  aid  of  the  penitent  lovers.  But  even  these 
heaven-sent  messengers  could  not  save  the  father  nor  the 
child  ;  both  died  within  a  few  days,  leaving  the  Lady 
Marguerite  alone  in  the  terrible  wilderness.  One  day  the 
smoke  of  a  fire  attracted  some  fishermen  on  a  bright,  calm 
day  ;  they  ventured  to  land  on  the  haunted  island,  and  there 
they  found  the  unhappy  woman,  and  rescued  her  after  she 
had  lived  among  the  fiends  of  Demon's  Isle  upward  of  two 
years. 

These  stories,  and  many  still  more  startling  mysteries 
of  the  deep  and  its  haunted  coasts,  the  sailors  of  the  sea 
knew  by  heart.  But  they  knew  nothing  of  the  realities  of 
Wilderness  Creek.  The  fishermen  who,  in  the  brief  sum- 
mer months,  carried  off  the  harvests  of  the  Labrador  coast 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  tempting  the  demons  of 
Nasquappe  or  the  adjacent  islands  by  a  trip  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  their  fish  stakes  and  landing  stages.  For 
years  and  years,  with  the  first  signs  of  autumn,  the  fisher- 
men from  France  and  Italy,  from  America  and  the  West  of 
England  had  sailed  home  with  their  scaly  treasures,  some 
to  be  caught  by  hostile  cruisers,  some  to  go  to  the  bottom, 
perhaps,  the  larger  proportion  fortunately  to  find  welcom- 
ing hands  at  ancient  jetties  and  in  picturesque  seaports. 

WThen  the  St.  Dennis,  dashing  into  the  broken  waters 
that  were  white  with  foam  one  moment,  black  the  next  with 
the  shadows  of  forbidding  rocks,  had  in  the  hands  of  her 
daring  pilot  sailed  into  Wilderness  Creek  and  found  rest  in 
the  still,  calm  harbor,  it  was  found  that  one  of  her  com- 
pany was  missing.  He  had  either  remained  on  board  the 
Avenger  with  the  Frenchmen  or  had  been  drowned.  Keith 
concluded  that  he  had  not  met  the  latter  fate,  seeing  that 
he  must  have  been  born  to  be  hanged.  This  person  was 
no  other  than  Lester  Bentz,  whose  life  had  been  spared  at 
the  intercession  of  Preedie  that  he  might  be  made  the 


148  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

drudge  and  butt  of  the  ship.  There  was  more  vengeance 
in  keeping  him  alive  under  such  circumstances,  Preedie 
argued,  than  in  giving  him  the  quiet  rest  of  the  grave  ;  and 
so  Bentz  had  been  spared,  but  only  for  what  he  conceived 
to  be  a  living  death,  seeing  that  every  day  he  expected 
Keith  to  cut  him  down  or  have  him  swung  to  the  yardarm 
as  he  had  seen  the  Rear  Admiral  of  the  Fishing  Fleet  swing 
above  the  fire.  When,  therefore,  the  opportunity  came 
for  a  change  of  masters,  Bentz  hid  himself  in  the  hold  of 
Ristack's  unfortunate  ship,  and  presently  made  friends 
with  the  mossoos,  who  were  taken  in  tow  by  the_  three- 
decker  St.  George,  and  carried  to  Halifax. 

The  St.  George  had  given  up  her  chase  of  Keith  only 
when  it  led  to  shoals  and  rocks  that  were  more  dangerous 
than  batteries  of  guns  or  the  boarding  pikes.  She  lay  to 
off  Labrador  the  next  day,  and,  the  weather  having  mod- 
erated, sent  a  boat  of  search  for  bodies  or  other  signs  of 
wreck  and  disaster.  The  officer  returned,  having  nothing 
to  report  beyond  the  well-known  inaccessibility  of  the 
coast  and  its  dangers. 

When  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth  made  for  Wilderness  Creek 
after  her  emancipation  from  the  command  of  Ristack,  Bentz, 
by  order  of  Preedie,  had  been  confined  to  the  hold,  where 
he  had  remained  until  the  ship  was  once  more  out  at  sea ; 
but  he  had  heard  sufficient  in  the  undisguised  talk  of  the 
crew  to  enable  him  to  give  valuable  information  to  the 
English  admiral.  His  lordship,  however,  only  regarded  the 
revelations  of  Bentz  as  to  an  inland  lake  and  a  calm  channel, 
thereto  as  a  sailor's  yarn.  No  attempt  was  made  to  test 
the  truth  of  his  romantic  story. 

Bentz  being  missed,  Keith  at  once  had  the  entrance  to 
Wilderness  Creek  barred  with  chains  ;  and  a  similar  pre- 
caution was  taken  in  regard  to  the  exit  of  the  harbor.  This 
accomplished  he  and  his  crew  settled  down  to  rest  and  for 
mutual  counsel  and  recreation.  The  season  was  unusually 


THE  MYSTERIES  OF    WILDERNESS   CREEK.      149 

mild.  As  a  rule,  the  snow  lies  over  Northern  Labrador 
from  September  until  June.  In  this  year  of  Keith's 
exploits  September  had  come  in  mild  and  genial,  with 
lovely  autumn  tints  ashore  and  only  moderate  gales  at  sea. 
The  wind  that  had  filled  the  sails  of  the  St.  Dennis  was 
almost  the  first  gale  of  the  autumn.  It  had  been  succeeded 
by  a  spell  of  fair  weather.  The  season  was  indeed  so 
unusually  mild  that  it  enabled  them  to  explore  the  surround- 
ing country,  and  in  that  garden  of  berries  which  Keith  had 
discovered  in  his  first  wanderings  about  the  coast  they  built 
a  log  house  and  cleared  the  land  around  it  for  cultivation. 
It  was  only  the  work  of  a  week  to  make  the  place  habitable  ; 
and  here  Keith  and  Preedie  and  Nicol  and  Scot,  and  occa- 
sionally others  of  the  crew  came,  to  drink  their  grog  and 
smoke  and  quaff  the  Frenchman's  wine  as  they  talked  over 
their  plans  for  the  future. 

The  days  went  by  pleasantly  enough,  and  knowing  the 
history  of  their  recent  exploits  it  might  have  surprised  any 
looker-on  to  see  how  easily  the  men  amused  themselves,  to 
hear  the  genial  songs  they  sung,  and  to  listen  to  their  yarns 
and  stories  of  adventure.  There  was  one  old  fellow  of 
whose  tales  Keith  never  tired.  He  had  been  mate  to  a 
pirate  captain  with  headquarters  at  Salem.  No  one  in  the 
quaint  old  town  pretended  to  suspect  his  chief  and  owner, 
who  lived  in  a  many-gabled  house  overlooking  the  bay,  and 
with  a  garden  full  of  vegetables  and  flowers.  The  pirate 
had  a  wife,  a  shrew  with  her  tongue  and  a  cat  with  her 
claws  ;  and  when  the  ship  put  into  Salem  she  would  have 
the  crew  go  up  to  the  house  to  dig  and  weed  ;  "  and  it 
would  have  done  your  heart  good,  sir,  to  have  seen  that 
worthy  old  dame  in  command.  By  the  Lord,  sir,  we  were 
more  afeard  of  her  angry  eye  than  all  the  hard  words  the 
captain  gave  us.  We  dug  and  slaved  at  that  garden  like 
any  niggers ;  every  time  we  came  ashore  there  was  a  new 
piece  of  land  to  bring  under  cultivation  ;  they  says  a  pirate's 


15°  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

heartless  and  free,  but  give  him  a  female  skipper  on  shore 
and  see  what  she  can  make  of  the  toughest  of  us  !  " 

It  was  a  standing  joke  with  Keith  to  mimic  the  Salem 
dame  and  order  the  crew  to  dig,  even  though  they  had  no 
spades  to  tame  the  wilderness,  and  he  was  as  pleased  as  a 
child  when  the  carpenter  brought  along  half  a  dozen  home- 
made spades  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  crew  went  to  work 
with  them. 

This  "  idle  waste  of  time,"  as  Donald  Nicol  called  it,  was 
not,  however,  allowed  to  interfere  with  the  taking  of  every 
precaution  for  the  full  and  complete  protection  of  the  ship. 
Although  it  was  not  likely  that  they  would  have  to  meet 
any  attack  from  the  land,  Keith  had  huts  built  for  sentinels 
commanding  the  outlet  from  Demon's  Rock  ;  and  a  post  of 
observation  was  established  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
harbor,  where  the  sea  birds  had  for  centuries  played  the 
part  of  flying  fiends  and  demons  in  the  superstitious  and 
fictitious  history  of  the  coast  of  Labrador. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ONE    FRIEND    AND    MANY    FOES. 

KEITH  had  hoped  to  make  one  more  trip  before  laying 
up  for  the  winter.  But  he  had  a  comrade's  consideration 
for  his  men.  They  had  behaved  splendidly,  even  when 
most  they  had  reason  to  doubt  his  seamanship,  and  he  was 
anxious  not  only  to  keep  faith  with  them  to  the  letter,  but 
to  give  them  what  he  called  "  a  reight  gude  merrie  time." 
They  had  signed  articles  of  the  most  stringent  if  generous 
character.  They  were  similar  to  those  which  Preedie  had 
signed  in  the  days  of  Hoyland.  Every  man  had  a  vote  in 
affairs  of  the  moment,  had  an  equal  title  to  liquors  and 
rations  in  times  of  pressure  ;  prize  money  was  to  be  shared 
in  proportions  laid  down,  with  proper  regard  to  position  and 
wages,  from  the  captain  to  the  humblest  soul  on  board  ; 
games  of  dice  or  cards  for  money  were  prohibited  ;  lights 
were  to  be  out  at  fixed  times ;  no  woman  was  allowed  on 
board  ;  all  weapons  were  to  be  kept  in  clean  and  perfect 
order  ;  no  quarrel  was  to  be  settled  with  arms  on  board  ; 
dueling  was  discountenanced,  and  could  only  take  place 
with  the  captain's  permission,  and  then  the  meeting  must 
be  on  shore  ;  desertion  in  time  of  battle  was  to  be  punish- 
able with  death,  equal  severity  to  be  meted  out  for  the 
crime  of  robbery  ;  no  man  to  retire  from  the  service  until 
his  share  of  booty  amounted  to  at  least  one  thousand 
pounds  ;  injuries  to  the  person  in  the  service  to  be  compen- 
sated out  of  the  common  stock.  The  sum  of  a  thousand 
pounds  apiece  had  already  been  earned  by  the  capture  of  the 
-S/.  Dennis,  after  the  officers  had  received  their  proportionate 
shares,  the  captain  taking  three,  and  the  subordinate 


152  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

officers  two,  and  one  and  a  quarter.  The  men  of  the  Anne 
of  Dartmouth,  who  had  signed  articles  with  the  rest,  were 
more  than  content,  and  they  were  devoted  to  their  new 
captain. 

The  division  of  the  spoil,  the  surveying  of  the  ship,  the 
excursions  ashore,  the  gardening,  the  councils  of  war,  and 
the  extra  nights  of  grog  and  merriment  made  the  time  go 
as  quickly  as  it  was  pleasant.  At  the  end  of  the  month, 
and  on  the  eve  of  serious  thoughts  of  a  last  brief  cruise 
before  the  winter  should  set  in,  the  wind  changed,  and  the 
snow  came  down  in  a  blinding  storm  that  was  followed  by 
keen  frosts  and  icy  blasts,  such  as  made  it  a  very  risky  thing 
to  engage  in  any  further  enterprises  until  the  spring.  It 
was  argued  by  some  that  inaction  for  six  months  would 
demoralize  the  crew.  Preedie  suggested  that  it  might  be 
well  to  lift  anchor  and  lay  up  at  Salem,  or  even  in  the  har- 
bor of  New  York,  where  they  could  ship  the  extra  hands 
necessary  to  the  complete  manning  of  their  new  vessel. 
But  Keith,  with  a  lively  faith  in  the  strength  of  England, 
while  he  was  willing  to  war  against  her,  hinted  that  neither 
Salem  nor  any  other  American  port  might  he  safe.  Further- 
more, the  Americans  would  consider  their  capture  of  the 
St.  Dennis  an  act  of  piracy  in  a  flag  flying  the  Stars  and 
Stripes.  As  for  a  cruise  in  the  Southern  seas  (also  proposed 
by  Preedie),  he  was  for  letting  well  alone  ;  it  was  in  these 
latitudes  that  it  should  most  satisfy  them  all  to  make  their 
power  felt.  To  meet  the  question  of  inaction,  he  planned  out 
a  continual  fight  with  winter  to  keep  open  a  track  to  the  gar- 
den hut,  and  moreover,  there  was  plenty  of  work  to  be  done 
in  adapting  the  St.  Dennis  to  their  own  tastes  and  require- 
ments. He  was  for  settling  down  into  winter  quarters  in 
the  harbor  of  Wilderness  Creek. 

While  these  matters  were  being  discussed,  winter  inter- 
vened with  barriers  that  left  no  option  whether  the  ship 
should  sail  or  not.  The  master  of  the  frost  and  snow 


ONE  FRIEND  AND  MANY  FOES,  153 

drew  his  strong  chains  across  both  entrance  and  exit.  The 
harbor  was  a  little  sea  of  ice.  Jagged  rock  and  shining 
bowlder  were  fringed  with  shining  beads  and  pendants. 
Bergs  began  to  form  in  the  waterways  outside  the  creek. 
Captain  and  crew  accepted  the  inevitable,  and  for  such  a 
company  they  passed  the  time  in  very  wholesome  fashion, 
fighting  the  snow  and  ice  and  putting  the  ship  into  perfect 
repair,  making  hardy  trips  of  sport  with  gun  and  trap,  and 
living  a  life  of  activity,  only  now  and  then  debased  by  a 
debauch  of  drink  and  ribald  songs,  in  which  Keith  would 
join  with  a  wild,  uncontrollable  energy.  He  had,  neverthe- 
less, fits  of  despair,  days  and  nights  of  speechless  depres- 
sion followed  by  an  unnatural  activity.  His  cheeks  grew 
thinner  and  thinner,  his  aspect  more  and  more  gaunt.  In 
appearance  he  had  put  on  a  premature  old  age.  Only  half 
through  the  allotted  span  of  man,  he  was  worn  and  wrinkled 
as  any  patriarch.  His  sunken  eyes  had  nevertheless  the 
brilliancy  of  youth.  They  sparkled  in  their  cavernous 
depths.  His  thin  hands  were  strong  as  eagles'  claws.  A 
long,  drooping  mustache,  worthy  of  a  Norseman's  visage, 
mingled  with  his  straggling  beard,  white  and  brown — a 
mixture  of  youth  and  age.  His  dress  was  picturesque  in 
its  careless  commonness  :  a  worn  and  ragged  leather  jerkin, 
baggy  trousers,  high  brown  boots,  a  broad  buckled  belt 
with  knife  and  pistols,  and  a  slouching  hat  of  felt  which 
was  worn  on  the  back  of  his  head,  leaving  the  thin,  expres- 
sive face  open  to  sun  and  storm,  defiant,  wild,  vengeful. 
He  might  have  been  made  of  iron,  so  little  did  he  regard 
or  fear  hardships  of  sport  or  march,  of  sleepless  nights  and 
days  of  perilous  work  and  hard. 

In  his  profane  way  of  looking  at  things  he  would  say 
that  God  would  not  let  him  die  of  cold  or  heat,  of  steel  or 
poison  ;  it  was  his  will  to  torture  him  with  ghosts  and  fit 
him  for  the  lowest  depths  of  the  fiery  pit ;  for  he  had  a 
grudge  against  him  which  nought  he  might  do  of  good  or 


154  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL, 

evil  made  any  account.  Then  he  would  steal  away  where 
no  eye  could  see  him,  and  weep  bitter  tears  and  pray  in  a 
blasphemous  manner,  as  one  bereft.  After  this  would 
come  a  calm,  a  tightening  of  the  lips,  and  a  planning  of 
murderous  deeds  of  plunder  and  of  vengeance. 

For  the  open  part  of  two  years  Alan  Keith  and  the  St. 
Dennis  led  a  charmed  life.  They  were  the  scourge  of  the 
adjacent  seas,  and  flew  their  varied  flags  as  far  away  as  the 
Azores.  Successful  in  every  enterprise,  they  adjourned  for 
occasional  rest  and  safety  to  their  land-locked  fastness  of 
Wilderness  Creek.  John  Preedie  had  ventured  to  sail  a 
valuable  English  prize  into  Salem,  where  he  was  received 
with  great  rejoicing.  Keith's  lieutenant  had  also  succeeded 
in  converting  certain  securities  into  current  drafts.  His 
letters  from  Plympton  had  also  proved  of  great  value. 
Plympton's  notes  he  had  turned  mostly  into  gold — at  a 
considerable  discount,  it  is  true.  Furthermore,  he  had  made 
arrangements  for  the  St.  Dennis  to  go  into  port  there  or  at 
Boston  whenever  she  chose.  A  Washington  authority  had 
secured  him  a  proper  commission  for  the  St.  Dennis.  But 
Keith  would  not  budge  from  Wilderness  Creek.  He  had, 
however,  early  in  the  second  season  of  his  adventures  as 
pirate  and  privateer,  consented  to  the  burying  of  the  ship's 
remaining  treasures.  A  party  of  Micmacs  had  been  seen 
off  the  Southern  shores  of  the  creek,  and  with  them,  it  was 
thought,  an  European  officer.  Furthermore,  Keith  had 
taken  a  British  money  ship,  the  very  schooner  with  gold  for 
the  troops  for  which  he  had  been  on  the  lookout  before  her 
time  last  year.  The  schooner  had  tried  to  give  the  brigan- 
tine  the  slip,  but  Keith  had  overhauled  her,  and,  over- 
matched as  the  schooner  was,  she  had  nevertheless  fought 
desperately,  and  there  had  been  killed  and  wounded  on 
both  sides.  Keith,  after  unloading  her  money  and  permit- 
ting the  remainder  of  her  crew  to  take  to  her  boats,  had 
burnt  the  ship.  By  the  weird  light  of  her  flaming  timbers 


ONE  FRIEND  AND  MANY  FOES.  155 

the  boats  had  been  picked  up  by  a  British  frigate,  on  her 
way  to  assist  in  the  convoying  of  an  East  India  fleet.  She 
took  the  schooner's  men  on  board  and  made  for  Halifax, 
where  she  landed  them  and  reported  the  loss  of  the 
schooner.  Here  she  met  the  St.  George  about  to  sail,  and 
on  board  she  carried  Lester  Bentz,  whose  second-hand 
knowledge  of  Keith's  harbor  had  been  under  serious  con- 
sideration at  the  Admiralty.  Bentz  had  been  compelled  to 
sail  with  the  St.  George.  Fortunately  or  unfortunately 
for  Alan  Keith,  Pat  Doolan  had  succeeded  in  making  his 
escape  from  the  ship  on  which  he  had  been  held  to  sail  for 
England.  He  had  got  back  to  Halifax  in  time  to  hear  all 
about  the  doings  of  the  pirate  Keith,  as  he  was  called  by 
the  Englishmen  there,  who  were  rejoiced  that  arrangements 
were  being  made  to  take  him  and  his  ship.  Pat  had  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  on  board  a  fishing. smack  that  was  making 
her  way  into  Labrador  waters.  They  had  witnessed  the 
fight  between  the  schooner  and  the  brigantine,  and  on  her 
way  to  Wilderness  Creek  Keith  had  thought  it  wise  to  bring 
the  smack  to  in  response  to  signals  which  Pat  had  suddenly 
exhibited  without  the  permission  of  the  master.  Pat, 
making  himself  known,  was  taken  off,  to  the  great  delight 
of  Keith,  and  the  St.  Dennis  began  to  drift  toward  Wilder- 
ness Creek,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  smack,  that 
was  studiously  giving  Demon's  Rock  the  customary  wide 
berth  maintained  in  all  weathers  by  every  careful  mariner. 
The  master  watched  the  fateful  ship  plunge  into  the 
breakers,  and  all  his  hands  stood  aghast  at  the  sight, 
unable  to  account  for  her  seeming  to  confound  rocks  and 
shoals  and  broken  water  for  the  navigable  ocean.  Some 
fiend,  no  doubt,  had  taken  hold  of  the  helm,  while  others 
beneath  the  keel  had  dragged  her  down  ;  for  presently  she 
disappeared  without  a  sign,  but  only  to  find  peaceful  shelter 
behind  the  rocks  of  Wilderness  Creek. 

Pat  Doolan's   news  sent   a  cold   shiver  to  the  heart  of 


IS6  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL.^ 

Alan  Keith.  Their  haunt  once  discovered,  they  would 
soon  be  face  to  face  with  England  afloat  and  ashore.  If 
Micmacs  had  been  seen,  and  with  them  a  European  offi- 
cer, they  had  best  prepare  for  a  fight  to  the  death.  Bentz 
on  board  the  St.  George  was  a  sign  that  their  days  of 
ease  were  over.  It  was  resolved  to  prepare  for  attack. 
Already  there  were  several  graves  near  the  entrance  to  the 
cave  of  Demon's  Rock.  It  was  decided  to  add  to  these 
four  others,  that  should  be  storehouses.  They  were  to 
contain  the  more  bulky  of  the  company's  booty.  Con- 
ditions and  agreements  were  entered  into  as  to  the  future 
in  respect  of  survivors.  Keith  had  taken  an  extra  bond  of 
fate  in  secreting  such  of  his  store  of  money  and  securities 
as  he  thought  best  to  have  under  his  own  personal  control. 
This  buried  purse  consisted  of  his  own  personal  savings 
at  Heart's  Delight,  the  moneys  intrusted  to  Preedie  by 
Plympton  for  their  enterprise,  his  share  of  the  Spanish 
haul  at  the  Azores,  and  other  smaller  stores  of  stones  and 
scrip.  Four  casks  filled  with  booty  were  buried  among 
the  graves.  Upon  them  were  piled  stones  and  bowlders  in 
a  careful,  formal  manner,  each  treasure  cask  with  its  cross 
and  rough  record  of  names  and  ages. 

But  the  commander  of  the  St.  George  had  no  notion 
of  making  acquaintance  with  the  harbor  of  Wilderness 
Creek.  He  discounted  the  Bentz  story  sufficiently  to  steer 
clear  of  such  wild  romancing  as  a  secret  harbor  ;  but  he 
was  under  the  impression  that  there  might,  after  all,  for  a 
small  ship,  be  steering  way  through  the  hitherto  regarded  as 
inaccessible  rocks  to  the  west  of  Demon's  Rock — perhaps  by 
Belle  Isle;  any  ship  navigating  such  a  course  being  shielded 
by  the  hilly  coast,  and  finding  her  way  many  miles  out  to 
the  eastward. 

Keith  had  taken  an  entirely  exaggerated  view  of  the 
possibilities  which  grew  out  of  the  information  brought  by 
Doolan.  In  order  to  clear  the  way  for  the  exit  from  the 


ONE  FRIEND  AND  MANY  FOES.  157 

harbor,  and  also  to  emphasize  the  bona  fides  of  the  ceme- 
tery, the  treasure  ship  was  piloted  out  and  permitted  to  go 
to  pieces  on  the  rocks  ;  and  to  this  day  there  are  remains 
of  her  still,  wedged  into  the  jagged  foothills  of  the  high 
torrs  that  appear  to  march  along  the  shore,  headland  upon 
headland,  one  endless  range  of  stony  dangers. 

Pat's  story  of  the  destruction  of  Heart's  Content  and  the 
carrying  away  of  Plympton  did  nqt  serve  to  cheer  the  low- 
ering spirits  of  Alan  Keith.  And  Sally  Mumford  and  his 
son,  what  had  become  of  them  ?  Pat  had  no  news  what- 
ever of  them.  They  had  disappeared  from  his  ken  and 
knowledge  from  the  moment  the  "sodgers"  marched  into 
Back  Bay  Valley  and  laid  violent  hands  upon  the  settle- 
ment. He  thought  Master  Plympton  had  been  able  to 
give  Sally  considerable  money,  and  that  he  had  advised  her 
to  make  her  way  to  Halifax.  But  the  trouble  had  so  taken 
hold  of  his  mind  that  he  did  not  rightly  remember  any- 
thing ;  and  having  been  in  the  sea,  after  his  escape,  for  a 
whole  day  and  a  night,  what  he  had  really  known  had  got 
washed  out  of  him,  and  that  was  a  fact.  It  had  been  in 
his  mind  to  find  Miss  Mumford  and  offer  her  marriage,  so 
that  he  might  have  had  authority  to  protect  her  and  look 
after  the  boy  ;  but  whether  he  would  ever  have  the  chance 
to  meet  her  again,  that  was  a  puzzle,  sure,  though  it  was  not 
a  greater  improbability  than  his  having  met  Master  Alan 
Keith,  the  brave  and  mighty  hero. 

The  brave  and  mighty  hero  felt  that  he  was  doomsd  to  a 
serious  fall  from  the  romantic  heights  to  which  he  had 
soared  in  the  imagination  of  Pat  Doolan,  and  from  the 
fairly  safe  position  which  he  had  hitherto  considered  secure 
at  Wilderness  Creek.  Not  that  he  feared  death.  That 
might  come  how  and  when  it  liked.  But  he  had  a  grim 
idea  that  he  was  doomed  for  all  kinds  of  miseries  of  cap- 
tivity and  torture,  that  he  had  for  some  untoward  reason 
been  marked  down  by  fate  or  Heaven  for  black  asd  cruel 


158  UNDER    THE    GREAT  SEAL. 

misfortune.  After  all,  was  there  a  divine  and  jealous  God  ? 
Had  he  offended  the  majesty  of  heaven  in  giving  up  the 
grand  simplicity  of  the  Scotch  Church  for  the  false  faith  of 
Father  Lavello  and  for  the  selfish  reason  of  being  more 
acceptable  to  Plympton  and  his  daughter?  Keith  brooded 
and  drunk  and  drunk  and  brooded  until  he  was  in  a  fever 
of  rage  and  violence  ;  and,  as  if  moved  by  the  very  fate  he 
dreaded,  he  ordered  the  St.  Dennis  to  be  once  more  made 
ready  for  sea.  The  sight  of  Doolan  had  brought  back  to 
him  pictures  of  his  happy  days,  and  he  seemed  to  hear 
whispered  prayers  in  a  dearly  loved  voice  in  the  interest  of 
little  David.  He  commissioned  Doolan  to  find  his  son, 
and  thought  of  some  provision  for  him  that  might  be  safe  ; 
and  he  undertook  to  put  the  Irishman  ashore  at  some  favor- 
able place  or  time  for  the  purpose  ;  but  it  was  otherwise 
ordained. 

Leaving  the  southern  outlet  of  Wilderness  Creek,  the 
St.  Dennis  found  herself  under  the  surveillance  of  a 
frigate,  which  presently  made  sail  toward  St.  John's, 
possibly  on  convoy  work,  for  the  fishing  ships  were  once 
more  sailing  into  Newfoundland  waters.  Keith's  prime 
object  was  to  put  Doolan  ashore,  and  Boston  was  thought 
to  be  his  best  port.  The  St.  Dennis  made  for  Boston  ;  but 
before  sundown  found  her  course  barred  by  that  very 
three-decker  from  which  she  had  escaped  in  her  earliest 
adventure  under  Keith.  Bearing  down  from  the  north, 
and  now  fairly  in  sight,  was  the  frigate  they  had  observed 
early  in  the  day,  exchanging  with  her  British  signals,  which 
had,  however,  not  deceived  her.  Keith  changed  his  course 
and  made  for  the  Bahamas  ;  and'  now  began  a  chase  in 
which  the  brilliant  seamanship  of  the  captains  was  only 
equaled  by  the  sailing  qualities  of  their  ships.  They  were 
three  graces  of  the  sea,  the  three-decker  playing  the  mag- 
nificent part  of  Juno.  At  sundown  the  frigate  flung  a  shot 
squarely  into  the  lower  rigging  of  the  St.  Dennis,  and  the 


ONE  FRIEND  AND  MANY  FOES.  159 

three-decker  stood  by  to  watch  the  fight ;  for  the  St. 
Dennis  was  within  range.  Keith  had  not  been  idle.  He 
had  maneuvered  his  ship  so  as  to  get  broadside  on,  and 
hardly  had  he  roared  down  the  main  hatchway  "Fire," 
than  the  St.  Dennis  trembled  from  keel  to  topmast  with  the 
explosion  ;  that  was  Keith's  response  to  the  challenge  of  his 
adversary.  When  the  smoke  cleared,  it  was  seen  that 
the  frigate's  mainmast  had  fallen,  and  that  her  sails  were 
riddled  and  torn. 

"  Noo,  my  lads,"  shouted  Keith,  "  at  her  again  while  she's 
tekk'n  up  wi'  sails — noo,  lads,  wear  ship — this  time  sweep 
her  infernal  decks.  Ah,  ah  !  that's  it  ;  she'll  wish  she  were 
back  i'  Halifax  !  " 

The  brigantine  broke  out  into  thunder  and  lightning, 
and  the  frigate  was  sorely  smitten  with  the  bolts.  Her 
sails  were  in  rags,  and  one  of  her  two  remaining  masts  was 
shattered. 

"By  the  Lord,  her  deck's  a  cemetery,"  shouted  Keith  ; 
"  stand  by,  boarders  !  Curse  it,  the  George  is  nae  longer 
lookin'  on  !  " 

The  three-decker  had  no  idea  of  continuing  to  play  the 
generous  part  she  had  elected  to  observe  at  the  beginning 
of  the  fight.  Regarding  the  two  vessels  as  well  matched, 
the  vice  admiral  was  willing  to  let  the  frigate  have  the 
glory  of  the  contest  and  capture  ;  but  the  frigate  was  so 
hard  hit  that  duty  had  now  to  give  place  to  sentiment  ; 
and  before  Keith  had  barely  got  out  his  last  words  the  side 
of  the  three-decker  burst  into  flame,  and  the  brigantine  reeled 
under  the  blow  that  struck  her  fore  and  aft.  As  the  sun 
dropped  into  the  -sea  night  came  on  like  the  dropping  of  a 
curtain,  but  not  before  the  brigantine  had  sustained  the 
shock  of  a  second  broadside  from  the  St.  George,  directed 
with  terrible  and  fatal  skill.  The  brigantine  was  literally 
crushed  under  the  weight  of  the  murderous  hail.  If  the 
darkness  had  been  somewhat  delayed  the  St.  Dennis  might 


160  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

have  been  saved  by  the  foe  and  no  doubt  would  have  been, 
not  only  in  a  spirit  of  humanity,  but  for  the  glory  of  her 
capture  and  the  arrest  of  her  daring  master.  Knowing  the 
danger  of  the  waters  into  which  they  had  chased  the  retreat- 
ing brigantine,  the  three-decker,  and  the  frigate  had  stood 
out  for  the  open  sea.  During  the  night  the  brigantine 
drifted  upon  the  coral  reefs  of  the  Bahamas,  and  every  soul 
except  one  was  lost.  He  rose  up  from  the  wreck  and  stood 
forth,  a  grim,  silent  figure — with  bleeding  feet  and  hands 
torn  upon  the  reefs — stood  forth  in  the  night,  blinded  with 
spray,  deaf  with  the  cries  of  the  dying  and  the  rush  and 
roar  of  the  waters. 

When  morning  broke  the  St.  George  sent  off  her  pinnace 
to  the  reefs,  but  the  ship  was  already  breaking  up,  and  no 
living  soul  could  be  seen,  only  a  few  floating  bodies  which 
the  sea  had  not  yet  released  from  the  spikes  and  spurs  of 
the  coral  reefs.  But  on  the  barren  shores  of  Abaco,  before 
the  day  was  over,  that  same  grim  figure  with  the  bleeding 
feet,  and  hands  all  torn  fighting  with  the  living  rocks,  rose 
up  once  more  and  walked  in  a  world  of  mocking  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
GHOSTS  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT. 

FOR  twenty  years  Alan  Keith  disappears  from  view 
among  the  surf-swept  reefs  of  Bahama's  thousand  islands. 

As  his  gaunt  figure  fades  out  in  the  mists  of  that  mock- 
ing sunshine  which  found  him  alone,  the  one  living  remnant 
of  the  St.  Dennis,  there  arises  in  the  natural  course  of  this 
romance,  the  lithe  young  figure  of  David,  his  son.  It  looms 
up  clean  cut  against  the  gray  horizon  of  an  English  cham- 
paign country  bordering  on  the  sea. 

They  might  be  limned  as  human  types  of  Hope  and 
Despair,  this  father  and  this  son. 

Away  beyond  the  Spanish  Main  Alan  Keith,  galled  with 
manacles  of  body  and  soul,  tried  to  give  to  that  of  Hannah 
his  wife  a  companion  vision  of  David,  their  worse  than 
orphaned  son.  That  he  could  never  do  so  encouraged  him 
to  believe  the  boy  was  living.  It  almost  made  him  think 
that  the  deserted  offspring  was  happy.  Otherwise,  he  surely 
would  have  been  able  to  summons  him  to  the  darkness  of 
his  cell. 

Such  is  the  love  of  man  that  Alan,  all  sin-stained  and 
half  crazy  with  fasting  and  confinement,  was  able  to  win 
the  sweet  companionship  of  Hannah  from  the  Elysian  fields. 
For  years,  in  his  imagination,  she  had  rarely  missed  a  day 
when  she  had  not  glided  through  the  massive  walls  of  his 
prison  to  sit  by  his  side  and  talk  to  him  of  Heart's  Delight. 
They  had  often  spoken  of  little  David,  speculating  upon 
what  might  be  his  fortunes.  Strange,  too,  that  the  pathetic 
ghost  of  Hannah  Plympton  had  no  spiritual  tidings  of  their 
son.  This  again  argued  for  his  life  and  happiness.  Dead, 

161 


1 62  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

he  would  assuredly  have  joined  her  with  the  saints.  Un- 
happy, she  would  have  had  a  mission  to  comfort  him.  The 
jailers  heard  their  familiar  prisoner  in  his  neglected  den, 
talking,  as  was  his  wont,  with  unseen  visitors. 

The  mad  Englishman  must  indeed  be  very  mad  since  he 
no  longer  complained  of  his  lot,  no  longer  craved  for  food, 
but  took  the  stuff  they  gave  him  with  a  grateful  smile. 

One  day  they  would  relieve  him  of  his  chains  and  unbar 
his  door.  But  would  it  be  death  or  human  freedom  that 
would  make  the  award  of  liberty  ?  And  what  could  so 
broken-wrtted  a  creature  do  for  himself  in  the  strange 
world  upon  which  liberty  would  thrust  him  ?  It  would 
surely  be  best  for  him  that  he  should  die. 

Yet  Alan,  in  his  blackest  despair,  saw  glimpses  of  a  star 
shining  afar  off  through  the  darkness. 

Happily  for  David's  peace  of  mind  his  father  was  dead 
to  him,  though  the  heroic  story  of  his  life,  as  he  had  heard 
it  from  Sally  Mumford,  and  read  of  it  in  documents  signed 
by  David  Plympton,  lived  continually  in  his  fancy.  To 
have  known  the  truth  about  the  prisoner  of  Talifet  would 
have  been  a  heavy  burden  for  the  generous  hearted  and 
romantic  lad  to  carry.  He  loved  the  memory  of  his  father, 
could  see  him  in  his  fancy  sitting  in  the  porch  of  the  great 
house  with  his  mother,  could  see  him  in  command  of  his 
avenging  ship,  fighting  for  the  freedom  of  his  fellows,  and 
paying  the  glorious  penalty  of  his  courage  and  devotion. 
Whether  he  had  any  suspicion  of  the  truth  or  not,  David's 
father  was  to  the  son  a  hero  whose  memory  was  worthy  of 
reverence  and  veneration.  Miss  Mumford  liked  nothing 
better  than  to  tell  David  stories  of  Alan  Keith's  famous 
deeds,  his  kindness  to  her,  and  his  devotion  to  his  wife. 

Miss  Mumford  was  an  old  maid  for  David's  sake.  She 
looked  the  character  of  a  cheery  spinster  to  the  life.  Her 
trim  little  home  in  a  corner  of  one  of  the  Yarmouth  Rows, 
with  bright  brass  knocker  and  white  lace  curtains  was  not 


GHOSTS  OF  HEARTS  DELIGHT.  163 

less  neat  than  herself.  It  was  a  picturesque  house,  with  its 
windows  full  of  flowers,  the  court  or  row,  in  which  it  was 
the  principal  dwelling,  white  with  limewash,  its  pavements 
red  with  freshly  washed  bricks. 

Hartley's  Row  at  this  point  branched  off  into  a  small 
court,  with  three  or  four  quaint  houses,  that  might  have 
suggested  to  the  traveler  a  stray  bit  of  Venice,  an  unlooked- 
for  incident  in  some  straggling  bit  of  street  abutting  on  a 
back  canal.  Indeed,  to  this  day,  there  are  by-ways  in  Yar- 
mouth that  might  be  by-ways  of  the  City  in  the  Sea,  when 
the  sun  shines  and  soft  shadows  fall  from  window  pedi- 
ments and  overhanging  gables  in  well-kept  rows  that  run 
off  quiet  and  still  from  busy  thoroughfares. 

But  Miss  Mumford  was  more  of  a  Dutchwoman  than 
a  Venetian  in  the  matter  of  cleanliness.  Her  house,  with 
its  immediate  approaches,  was  constantly  washed  and 
brushed  up.  The  window-panes  shone,  the  doorstep  was 
as  white  as  the  blinds,  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  place  was 
immaculate.  Miss  Mumford  and  her  neighbor,  Mildred 
Hope,  in  Hartley's  Row,  were  the  center  of  a  clean  and 
godly  influence.  Miss  Mumford  was  only  fifty,  after  all  the 
years  that  had  passed  over  Heart's  Content  and  Heart's 
Delight,  with  wreck  and  ruin,  with  sun  and  storm.  Here 
she  lived  once  more  in  the  country  of  her  fathers,  and, 
though  a  spinster,  was  still  a  mother  to  David  Keith, 
beloved  by  the  gracious  lad,  and  respected  by  all  their 
neighbors. 

She  had  had  a  hard  time  of  it  when  the  new  settlement 
at  Heart's  Content  was  broken  up.  Before  the  arrest  of 
Plympton  and  the  others  the  master  had  been  able  to  place 
in  her  hands  sufficient  moneys  for  her  own  and  David's 
security  against  want.  By  his  advice  she  had  followed  him 
to  London,  and  had  taken  a  lodging  there  not  far  from  the 
prison  where  he  was  confined.  Plympton's  durance  was 
not  of  long  continuance.  He  had  influential  friends  at 


164  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Court.  His  story  was  honestly  told  by  one  who  knew  it 
well.  The  time  was  favorable  for  his  cause.  He  was 
honorably  acquitted  of  the  charges  brought  against  him, 
and  received  a  certain  compensation  for  the  loss  of  his 
property,  which  he  duly  settled  in  trust  for  David  Keith. 
This  secured  to  the  boy  an  education  and  a  small  income 
for  life.  With  the  moneys  of  which  Miss  Mumford  was 
already  possessed,  the  two  were  able  to  live  in  comparative 
affluence  in  Hartley's  Row,  at  Yarmouth. 

If  at  this  moment  it  seems  odd  to  speak  of  Sally  as  Miss, 
you  would  be  satisfied  if  you  could  see  her  in  her  prim 
black  silk  with  white  fichu  and  apron,  a  pair  of  gold 
spectacles  on  her  nose,  and  her  gray  hair  dressed  in  two 
bunches  of  curls  about  her  thoughtful,  pleasant  face. 

Fortunately,  as  well  for  Plympton's  companions  as  him- 
self, they  were  supported  in  their  defense  by  ardent  peti- 
tions for  their  release.  Even  St.  John's  joined  in  the 
prayers  of  the  last  of  the  men  and  women  of  Heart's 
Delight  and  Heart's  Content.  Furthermore,  they  came 
before  the  Council  by  way  of  preliminary  inquiry,  at  the 
moment  when  the  new  governor,  Admiral  Sir  Richard 
Godwin  Keats  was  on  the  point  of  sailing  with  instructions 
for  the  more  enlightened  government  of  Newfoundland, 
that  had  been  inspired  by  recent  events  in  that  unhappy 
colony,  backed  by  something  like  a  revolt  of  the  merchants 
at  St.  John's.  As  evidence  of  this  refractory  spirit,  Sir 
John  Duckworth  had  felt  called  upon  to  report  the  case  of 
a  merchant  there,  who  had  thought  proper  to  dispense  with 
the  governor's  leave,  and  had  violently  attempted  to  build 
a  house,  which,  in  a  daring  letter  to  the  sheriff,  he  had 
avowed  his  intention  of  letting  as  a  dwelling-house.  This 
attempt,  moreover,  was  not  that  of  an  individual,  but  was 
instigated  and  supported  by  a  company  of  merchants  and 
settlers,  who  had  raised  a  fund,  "  the  real  object  of  which," 
declared  the  governor,  "was  to  oppose  the  government, 


GHOSTS  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT.  165 

and  establish  the  right  of  property  upon  a  quiet  possession 
of  twenty  years."  This  was  no  further  back  than  the  early 
years  of  the  present  century.  In  April,  1813,  the  new 
governor  was  authorized  to  make  many  changes,  one  or 
two  of  which  may  be  mentioned.  The  publicans  of  St. 
John's,  in  consideration  of  their  license  to  sell  ardent 
spirits,  had  to  act  as  constables  ;  they  were  now  to  be 
relieved  of  their  duty  and  taxed  for  their  privileges,  the 
money  thus  obtained  being  set  apart  to  create  a  civic  arm 
for  the  proper  preservation  of  peace  and  order.  Grants  of 
land  at  an  annual  quit  rent  for  the  purposes  of  cultivation 
were  sanctioned,  but  with  severe  restrictions  as  to  renewal 
of  leases  ;  the  memorial  of  certain  admirals  for  a  rigorous 
continuation  of  the  enforced  return  of  seamen  after  the 
close  of  each  fishing  season,  as  heretofore,  or  for  the  right 
to  seize  them  and  bring  them  on  board  His  Majesty's  ships 
was  disregarded  ;  and  further  evidence  was  not  wanting  on 
all  hands  for  indorsement  of  the  faith  that  had  made  Alan 
Keith  obstinate  in  his  hopes  of  a  free  Newfoundland,  with 
rights  to  dig  and  delve  and  make  the  land  blossom  as  the 
rose. 

Such  was  the  generous  mood  of  the  government  when 
David  Plympton  and  his  fellows  stood  for  judgment;  and 
the  magnanimity  of  the  time  has  burdened  the  shoulders 
of  Her  Majesty's  ministers  in  our  own  day  and  hampered 
the  natural  progress  of  the  enfranchised  island.  Although 
France  had  been  the  disturber  of  the  peace  of  Europe,  and 
her  ruler  was  chiefly  indebted  to  England  for  his  throne, 
Great  Britain,  disregarding  the  petitions  of  Newfoundland 
and  her  own  colonial  and  naval  interests — and  without  any 
reason  whatever,  unless  it  was  in  the  way  of  still  discredit- 
ing and  crippling  the  native  settlers — voluntarily  engaged 
to  restore  to  the  French  the  colonies,  fisheries,  factories, 
and  establishments  of  every  kind  which  they  possessed,  in 
1792,  on  the  seas  and  on  the  contiment  of  America. 


1 66  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

So  liberal  also  were  the  privileges  conceded  to  America 
that  in  a  short  time  the  incentive  thus  given  to  foreign 
competition  was  soon  the  cause  of  serious  embarrassment  to 
the  colonists.  Duly  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the 
fisheries,  both  the  French  and  Americans  at  once  estab- 
lished a  system  of  bounties  for  their  encouragement,  and 
at  the  same  time  secured  for  their  own  fishermen  a  monop- 
oly of  their  markets  by  a  prohibitory  duty  on  the  import 
of  foreign  fish.  This  literally  broke  the  financial  backs  of 
a  vast  majority  of  the  Newfoundland  merchants  and  fisher- 
men.  It  was  as  if  government,  relenting  of  her  tardy  acts 
of  justice,  turned  once  more  to  rend  the  unhappy  colony. 
The  price  of  fish  fell  from  forty-five  shillings  per  quintal 
to  twelve.  Many  large  mercantile  firms  became  bankrupt. 
Others  realized  on  their  property  and  retired  from  the 
country.  No  less  than  nine  hundred  cases  arising  out  of  the 
general  failure  came  before  the  civil  courts.  Bills  to  the  value 
of  a  million  sterling  were  dishonored.  The  entire  colony 
was  at  a  standstill  for  work,  and  the  modest  savings  of  the 
industrious  classes  were  swept  away.  The  government  had 
to  send  aid  to  the  starving  people,  and  did  so  with  no  unstinU 
ing  hand.  The  innate  pluck  of  the  colonists,  the  recupera- 
tive power  of  the  English  people,  eventually  utilized  the 
new  and  beneficent  laws  of  local  and  imperial  government ; 
but  to  this  day  the  magnanimity  of  the  home  government 
to  a  beaten  foe,  at  the  expense  of  the  colony,  is  an  ever 
growing  seed  of  trouble  and  danger. 

It  was  lucky,  all  the  same,  as  we  have  said,  for  Plympton 
and  the  rest,  that  their  revolt,  so-called,  had  to  be  considered 
when  the  government  was  in  a  forgiving  and  generous 
mood.  Plympton  was  released  and  to  some  extent  com- 
pensated, the  others  were  permitted  to  take  service  in  His 
Majesty's  fleet,  in  which  capacity  they  disappear  from  these 
pages. 

Lester  Bentz,  who  sailed  into  port  with  the  triumphant 


GHOSTS  OF  HEART'S  DELIGHT.  167 

St.  George,  was  rewarded  for  his  patriotic  services  with  an 
official  position  on  the  governor's  staff.  Cowardice  and 
canning  had  come  out  so  successfully  in  his  case  ;  and  he 
had  the  satisfaction  of  bestowing  an  official  snub  upon 
Master  David  Plympton,  whose  business  brought  the  two 
together,  Plympton  as  a  suppliant,  Lester  Bentz  as  an 
officer  in  authority  in  the  colonial  department.  The 
admiral  of  the  St.  George  had  to  report  the  complete 
annihilation  of  the  St.  Dennis,  which  had  been  used  by 
Alan  Keith  for  piratical  purposes.  It  was  debated  whether 
Keith  and  his  men  should  be  proclaimed  malefactors  ;  but 
a  super-sensible  member  of  the  Council  of  the  Admiralty 
urged  that  they  wasted  time  in  discussing  dead  men. 
Moreover,  there  had  been  something  gallant  in  the  way  in 
which  Keith  had  captured  the  brigantine  from  the  King's 
enemy ;  and  it  was  plain  that  he  had  been  driven  to  revolt 
and  madness  by  the  overstrained  authority  of  Ristack  and 
the  other  fishing  admirals,  who  had  used  their  powers  for 
their  individual  advantages  ;  Keith  and  his  fellows  being 
dead — victims  to  their  temerity  in  fighting  an  English  ship 
— there  let  them  rest.  And  this  in  effect  was  the  verdict 
of  the  court,  which  was  too  busy  with  a  thousand  living 
questions  to  do  more  at  the  moment  than  advance  the  pro- 
motion of  the  commander  of  the  St.  George  and  authorize 
the  speedy  distribution  of  whatever  prize  money  belonged 
to  his  ship.  Lester  Bentz  had  said  something  about  the 
possibility  of  hidden  treasures  that  might  be  found  in  the 
locality  of  Keith's  hiding  place  ;  but  he  was  vague  and 
hypothetical  in  his  suggestions,  and  the  admiral  of  the 
St.  George  declared  "  fore  Gad  "  that  any  man  was  welcome 
to  whatever  they  might  dig  out  of  the  God  forsaken  coasts 
and  creeks  about  Demon's  Rock. 

Plympton  having  arranged  with  one  of  the  trustees  of 
David  and  Miss  Mumford  for  their  removal  to  Yarmouth, 
where  he  had  legal  and  other  associations,  went  back  to 


1 68  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Newfoundland  and  busied  himself  there  for  some  time, 
more  especially  in  the  northern  territory  of  Labrador. 
Within  a  year  or  two  he  died  and  was  laid  to  rest  with  the 
remains  of  his  wife  and  father  at  St.  John's. 

And  so  the  years  passed  away,  and  the  treasure  of 
Wilderness  Creek  reared  its  triple-headed  lie  among  the 
graves  of  the  dead  and  gone,  and  took  upon  its  stony  front 
the  same  tokens  of  time  and  weather  that  marked  the  true 
mementoes.  In  winter  these  silent  sentinels  of  the  Cave  of 
Demon's  Rock  were  white  with  snow  and  frost,  ghosts  of 
the  icy  wilderness.  Summer  found  them  green  and  gray 
with  moss  and  lichen. 

In  later  years  an  occasional  traveler,  pioneer  of  trade 
and  commerce,  missionary  of  civilization,  prospector  of 
metals,  and  hidden  stores  of  earth  and  sea,  would  cross 
himself  or  doff  his  cap,  at  sight  of  the  little  cemetery  with 
its  three  cairns  that  stood  higher  than  the  rest,  as  Fate 
might  have  designed  for  a  land-mark  in  the  mazes  of  this 
strange  eventful  history. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DAVID'S    SWEETHEART. 

SHE  was  the  only  daughter  of  Zaccheus  Webb.  He  was 
a  fisherman,  well-to-do,  and  of  high  repute  along  the  coast, 
north  and  south,  from  Cromer  to  Yarmouth,  from  Yar- 
mouth to  Lowestoft.  He  lived  at  Caister,  and  had  helped 
to  build  the  lookout  station  at  Caister  Point,  which  is  still 
one  of  the  artistic  details  of  the  wild  coast-line  that  adorns 
many  a  draughtsman's  study  of  East  Coast  scenery.  Old 
Zacky,  as  his  intimate  friends  loved  to  call  him,  liked  noth- 
ing better  on  quiet  summer  evenings,  when  he  had  leisure, 
than  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  the  lookout  men  and  talk  about 
the  adventures  they  had  seen  in  the  North  Sea,  and  the 
ships  that  had  been  lost  on  the  Scroby  Sands  and  the  Middle 
Cross.  His  favorite  theme  when  he  was  in  an  argumenta- 
tive mood  was  to  deny  the  possibility  set  up  by  Justice 
Barkstead  that  some  day  Scroby  Sands  might  be  a  seaport, 
while  Yarmouth  would  have  gone  inland,  deserted  by  the 
sea,  which  had  left  Sandwich  high  and  dry — Sandwich  in 
the  Straits  of  Dover.  But  Zaccheus  was  not  of  a  con- 
troversial disposition  ;  nor  was  he  a  man  of  educational 
culture.  He  could  sign  his  name,  and  make  sufficient  sense 
of  figures  to  calculate  his  gains  and  profits  and  estimate  the 
costs  and  risks  of  his  business.  His  parents  could  have 
had  no  idea  of  the  possibilities  of  the  character  he  would 
develop  when  they  gave  him  his  unusual  and  difficult 
Christian  name  of  Zaccheus,  which  according  to  the  Syriac 
is  understood  to  mean  innocence  ;  but  it  was  a  true  fore- 
cast. Old  Zacky  was  as  unsophisticated  a  man  outside  his 
own  business  as  can  be  well  imagined,  and  as  guileless  even 

i6q 


17°  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

in  his  trading  as  is  consistent  with  keeping  a  balance  in 
your  stocking  or  at  your  bankers.  Zaccheus  had  with  all 
this  a  certain  shrewd  view  of  things  that  kept  him  not  only 
straight  with  the  world  but  forth — on  and  in  front  of  his 
neighbors.  Briefly,  it  may  be  said  of  him,  that  he  knew  hi* 
trade,  believed  in  God,  the  Flying  Scud,  and  his  daughter 
Elmira. 

David  Keith  hoped  to  marry  Elmira  Webb  as  soon  as  he 
had  obtained  his  articles  and  should  be  taken  into  partner- 
ship by  his  master,  a  conveyancing  lawyer  and  general 
practitioner,  who  thought  more  of  the  fine  manly  qualities 
of  his  articled  clerk  than  he  did  of  his  fitness  for  professional 
life. 

David  did  his  utmost  to  acquire  such  knowledge  as  best 
pleased  old  Petherick,  his  chief.  But  he  knew  more  about 
fishing  than  conveyancing.  It  came  natural  to  him  to  sail 
a  boat,  interpret  the  signs  of  the  herring  season,  and  fore- 
cast the  weather.  He  was  born  for  the  sea,  and  an  eccen- 
tric Fate  had  bound  him  to  the  law.  Mr.  Waveny  Petherick 
was  a  kind-hearted  man  ;  he  did  not  stand  in  the  way  of 
David's  nautical  enjoyments  ;  he  approved  of  his  engage- 
ment to  Elmira  Webb,  and  once  a  week  he  gave  the  lad  a 
half-holiday,  on  which  occasions  David  donned  such  gear 
of  oilskin  and  canvas,  as  delighted  the  heart  of  Zaccheus 
Webb,  the  smack  owner  of  Caister. 

For  most  of  the  week  David  sat  at  his  desk,  copying 
drafts  or  professing  to  read  law,  while  his  mind  wandered 
away  with  the  ships  that  came  and  went,  moored  for  a  little 
time  opposite  his  window  to  load  or  unload  ;  but  on  this 
summer  day  that  is  eventful  in  this  history  he  made  holiday, 
and  it  was  in  his  mind  to  have  it  settled  both  with  father 
and  daughter  whether  he  should  be  accepted  truly  as  the 
future  husband  of  Elmira  Webb.  He  had  never  closed  his 
desk,  and  put  on  his  nautical  suit  of  blue  flannel  and  rough- 
tanned  boots  with  such  a  business  air.  Besides,  it  had 


DAVID'S  SWEETHEART.  171 

become  necessary  that  he  should  look  the  future  full  in  the 
face,  and  there  was  no  future  for  him  which  did  not  give 
him  Elmira  as  his  wife  and  companion.  Miss  Mumford 
agreed  with  his  intention  to  come  to  a  final  understanding 
with  Elmira  and  her  father.  She  had  failed  to  impress 
David  with  his  youth  and  inexperience  ;  she  had  argued 
that  he  might  see  some  other  girl  whom  he  could  love  ; 
that  Elmira  knew  but  little  of  the  world,  and  that  she  might 
meet  some  other  young  gentleman  she  could  care  for  more 
than  him  ;  she  had  dwelt  upon  the  inadvisability  of  boys 
and  girls  being  engaged  before  they  could  really  know  their 
own  minds  ;  but  finding  that  David  was  desperately  in  love, 
and  believed  himself  to  be  a  man  ;  finding  that  Zaccheus 
Webb  rather  encouraged  David's  unmistakable  pretensions, 
and  that  David  had  a  fine  prospect  of  being  well-off  in  the 
matter  of  mon'ey,  she  encouraged  him  to  have  it  out  with 
Elmira. 

When  he  left  Hartley  Row  that  afternoon  to  meet  the 
girl,  she  wished  him  "  Good  luck,"  and  after  he  had  gone 
wept  tears  of  anxiety  and  hope,  and  said  a  little  prayer  for 
his  unabated  happiness.  Mildred  Hope,  who  was  known 
as  "  the  prison  visitor,"  came  in  soon  after  David's  depar- 
ture, and  Miss  Mumford  poured  out  to  her  all  her  hopes 
and  fears. 

Mildred  listened  with  a  deeper  personal  interest  than 
Miss  Mumford  understood  or  dreamed  of  ;  for  Mildred  had 
no  wish  beyond  the  good  of  others  ;  no  object  in  life  except 
that  of  a  true  and  unselfish  philanthropy,  young  as  she  was, 
and,  according  to  many,  comely  and  pretty.  But  Mildred 
Hope  comes  into  this  romance  a  little  later  in  the  story. 

Meanwhile  attention  is  called  to  David  Keith  waiting  for 
the  girl  he  loved  with  all  the  ardor  of  his  youthful  and 
romantic  nature. 

He  stood  upon  a  wind-swept  ridge  of  the  North  Dunes, 
now  shading  his  eyes  to  scan  the  distant  roadway  that  came 


1 72  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

circuitously  from  Webb's  house,  now  watching  the  highway 
that  crossed  the  sands  from  Yarmouth,  now  looking  out 
across  the  sea  far  away  and  in  fancy  lifting  the  veil  of  the 
future. 

So  had  Alan,  his  father,  looked  out  into  the  years  to 
imagine  a  future  the  very  opposite  from  that  which  lay 
hidden  from  mortal  ken,  to  behold  which  at  any  time  might 
paralyze  the  strongest. 

To  David  the  outlook  was  bright  as  the  swelling  sea  at 
his  feet.  He  could  see  it  even  through  the  stone  walls  and 
the  great  tin  boxes  in  Petherick's  musty  office.  The  walls, 
and  all  the  dingy  maps  and  legal  notices  with  which  they 
were  decorated,  would  melt  away  before  David's  thoughtful 
gaze,  and  always  along  the  bright  road  that  lay  before  him 
he  would  rejoice  in  the  companionship  of  the  prettiest,  the 
smartest,  the  merriest  girl  in  all  the  world,  Elmira  Webb. 

But  she  kept  him  waiting,  this  willful  beauty.  She  was 
a  creature  of  caprice,  wayward,  tantalizing,  but  David  loved 
her  all  the  more  for  her  feminine  weaknesses,  her  coquetry, 
her  pouting,  and  her  mad-cap  follies.  Was  she  not  her 
father's  pet  ?  Did  not  everybody  in  Yarmouth,  when  she 
went  there,  turn  to  look  at  her  in  the  street  ?  Did  she  not 
outshine  all  the  other  beauties  of  the  coast  ?  And  was  she 
not  one  day  to  be  David's  wife?  If  Zaccheus  Webb  trusted 
her  with  his  heart  and  fortune,  and  loved  the  very  ground 
she  trod  upon,  who  was  David  that  he  should  be  impatient 
with  her  for  a  single  second. 

Presently,  behold  she  cometh  ;  the  pretty,  self-conscious 
maiden,  brave  in  bright  apparel  ;  all  in  her  Sunday  best  ; 
flower-decked  tuscan  hat,  short-waisted  summer  gown  with 
flowing  sash  and  dainty  boots.  She  has  been  to  the  town, 
it  is  market-day  ;  and  furthermore  she  has  been  on  business 
there  for  Zaccheus,  her  father  ;  and  needs  must  wear  her 
best.  She  had  been  delayed  somewhat,  too,  and  there  is  no 
time  to  change  for  the  little  sea  trip  she  has  promised 


DAVID'S  SWEETHEART.  173 

David,*who  is  bent  on  bringing  in  from  her  father's  smack 
some  of  the  fish  with  which  the  Flying  Scud  is  laden. 

Elmira,  alighting  from  the  mail-cart  that  set  her  down  on 
the  road  leading  to  her  father's  house,  takes  her  way  across 
the  Dunes,  and  leaves  behind  her  a  long  trail  of  tiny  foot- 
falls, prints  of  a  dainty,  high-heeled  shoe,  and  the  marks 
thereof  are  wayward  and  uncertain.  Now  they  sink  deep 
into  the  drifting  sand,  and  leave  but  shallow  shapes ;  now 
there  are  heel  marks  strong  and  firm,  as  if  they  emphasized 
some  passing  thought ;  and  now  there  are  light  and  vague 
impressions  of  both  sole  and  heel,  level  footfalls  of  a  shapely 
silver-buckled  shoe. 

While  David  waited  for  her  and  beguiled  the  time  with 
imaginative  pictures  of  their  future,  another  marked  her 
footfalls  ;  one  who  knew  her  wayward  nature  without  read- 
ing its  imprint  on  the  sand. 

They  were  friends,  the  boy  who  waited  and  the  man  who 
followed,  the  one  true  as  steel,  the  other  unreliable,  and 
fascinating  in  a  manly  way,  as  Elmira  was  attractive  in  a 
certain  feminine  imperiousness  that  finds  its  most  tender 
sympathizer  in  temperaments  such  as  that  which  made 
David  Keith  her  slave.  Harry  Barkstead  had  the  kind  of 
reputation  that  has  a  charm  for  many  women,  however 
innocent.  He  was  overbearing  with  the  sex,  masterful, 
suspected  of  being  on  too  familiar  terms  with  the  charming 
widow,  Mrs.  Leyton-West,  whose  country  house  was  adja- 
cent to  his  father's  property,  and  he  was  known  to  have 
made  a  conquest  of  more  hearts  than  one,  among  the  high- 
bred damsels  of  the  county  who  patronized  the  town  on 
great  occasions  of  public  state  and  ceremony. 

Opposite  natures  often  fraternize  the  better  for  their  con- 
trasting  individualities.  David  Keith  admired  Harry  Bark- 
stead,  almost  envied  him  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
delighted  to  make  excursions  with  him  in  his  yacht,  and 
to  shoot  over  the  Breydon  waters,  and  trap  the  game  by 


174  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Ormesby  Lake  and  Fritton.  Moreover  Harry  was  in 
David's  confidence,  knew  all  about  his  engagement  to 
Elmira,  and  sympathized  with  him  in  his  ambition,  domestic 
and  otherwise.  Yet  Harry  could  not,  try  as  he  would,  keep 
back  an  unfair,  if  not  unholy,  inspiration  of  competition  with 
his  friend  for  Elmira's  favors.  He  did  honestly  struggle 
against  this  unfriendly  direction  of  his  inclination,  and  when 
most  he  thought  he  had  conquered,  Elmira  threw  out  signals 
of  encouragement,  and  he  went  blindly  on,  as  he  did  on  this 
summer  day,  following  her  in  the  hope  that  he  might  have 
a  pleasant  ittte-a-tete  while  old  Zacky  was  busy  at  the  fishing. 
Thinking  that  she  was  going  home,  he  resolved  to  call,  on 
some  pretext  or  other,  either  to  see  her  father,  or  ask  after 
David,  or  with  any  other  excuse,  when  she  struck  off  away  . 
from  the  house  in  the  direction  of  the  Lower  Dunes  by  the 
sea.  His  curiosity  was  piqued.  He  followed,  never  think- 
ing, however,  that  she  had  seen  him  ;  for  where  the  little 
hills  and  valleys  gave  him  shelter  he  took  it,  and  wandered 
on,  noting  the  impress  of  her  footfalls,  and  dwelling  upon 
the  sylph-like,  willowy  motion  of  her  splendid  figure,  fine 
in  form,  yet  round  and  supple  too.  She  saw  the  shadow 
of  it  on  the  sand,  and  gave  it  her  own  complimentary 
regard  as  well.  She  rejoiced  in  her  beauty,  she  reveled  in 
the  healthy  beat  of  her  pulse,  and  the  general  sense  of 
elation  that  came  of  both,  combined  with  her  well-cut 
gown  and  artistic  hat  and  summer  flowers. 

Alan  Keith  had  suffered  rather  that  Hannah,  his  wife,  had 
loved  him  with  as  true  a  heart-beat  as  his  own.  How  will 
David,  his  son,  fare  with  a  love  that  is  as  uncertain  as  an 
April  day,  and  yet  while  it  lasts,  is  as  bright  as  the  sun  that 
shines  between  the  showers  ? 

There  are  innocent,  willful,  wayward  beauties  who  only 
need  the  masterful  hand  of  a  true  and  loving  consort  to 
make  them  all  that  man  can  desire,  who,  like  the  bruised 
blossoms  of  the  field,  send  forth  their  richest  perfume 


DAVID'S  SWEETHEART.  175 

beneath  the  pressure  of  a  rough,  unmindful  footfall.  Some 
women  need  control  in  the  strongest  sense  of  masterful 
authority  ;  all  women  are  the  better  when  their  own  natural 
tendency  to  tyrannize  is  held  in  check  by  the  stronger  will 
of  a  none  the  less  affectionate  lover  who  respects  himself 
and  the  man's  ordained  authority  ;  while  he  relinquishes  to 
the  woman  all  that  belongs  to  her  rightful  share  of  power 
and  pays  all  deference  to  that  very  feminine  strength  which 
in  man  would  be  counted  weak. 

You  never  saw  anything  more  bewitching  than  the  dark 
blue,  dreamy  eyes  of  Elmira  Webb,  that  were  as  arch  as  a 
grisette's  at  one  moment,  and  at  another  soft  and  enticing 
as  that  of  the  traditional  houri.  Sometimes  in  her  very  talk 
she  seemed  to  cling  and  seek  shelter  from  the  world's 
alarms  ;  at  others  she  was  self-possessed  and  defiant.  She 
had  moods  of  merriment  and  moods  of  melancholy  that 
Zaccheus,  her  father,  called  the  doldrums,  the  like  of  which 
was  natural  to  "  gels."  Her  hair  was  brown  and  wavy. 
It  was  tied  up  in  a  bunch  high  enough  to  show  her  sun- 
burnt neck,  which  was  suggestive  of  a  sinuous  strength. 
She  was  a  trifle  above  the  medium  height,  just  tall  enough, 
David  had  long  ago  discovered,  to  top  his  shoulder,  and 
David  was  within  an  inch  of  six  feet.  She  had  a  finely 
formed,  flexible  mouth,  lips  neither  full  nor  thin,  but  with 
a  lurking  smile  or  pretty  sarcasm  in  the  corners,  that  gave 
piquancy  to  her  manner  and  point  to  all  she  said.  She  had 
a  small  nose,  with  a  moderately  open  nostril,  that  suggested 
higher  breeding  than  her  station  implied,  and  a  beautifully 
modeled  chin  with  a  benevolent  dimple  in  it  that  contra- 
dicted other  characteristics  of  the  face  and  head  that 
naturally  belong  to  the  selfish  and  inconstant.  How  these 
contradictory  qualities,  good  and  bad,  developed  under  the 
influences  to  which  they  were  subjected  remains  to  be 
seen. 

David    Keith   was  the  very   opposite  of   Elmira  Webb. 


1 7 6  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

The  contrast,  no  doubt,  had  for  him  a  subtle  charm.  He 
was  dark.  She  was  fair.  He  was  resolute  and  strong  of 
will.  She  was  fantastic  and  fickle.  He  was  of  powerful 
build.  She  was  soft  and  willowy.  He  had  all  the  capacity 
of  loving  that  belongs  to  earnest,  generous  nature.  She 
lacked  constancy.  They  were  a  very  handsome,  even 
showy  couple  ;  she  with  her  mischievous  eyes  and  lively 
manners  ;  he  with  his  dark  dreamy  eyes,  his  thick  black 
hair,  his  bronzed,  open,  honest  face,  and  in  his  walk  the 
swing  of  a  young  giant.  To  think  of  him  sitting  on  a  high 
stool  in  Petherick's  office,  was  a  wrong  to  romance,  and  to 
the  boy's  antecedents.  He  had  inherited  something  of  his 
grandfather's  aristocratic  appearance,  but  underneath  the 
gentle  nature  his  mother  had  given  him,  there  burnt  the 
fires  of  ambition  and  passion,  of  which  so  far  he  had  little 
or  no  consciousness,  except  in  the  deep  and  intense  indigna- 
tion which  was  aroused  in  his  nature  by  stories  of  wrong 
and  oppression,  and  an  occasional  yearning  for  adventure 
inspired  by  the  romances  of  the  sea  and  land,  which  he 
read  when  he  should  have  been  studying  the  musty  law 
books  that  were  to  fit  him  for  his  career  as  Petherick's  chief 
clerk,  and,  in  the  dim  future,  Petherick's  junior  partner. 

"  At  last,"  the  impatient  lad  exclaimed,  "  it  seems  an 
eternity  since  three  o'clock — why,  how  splendid  you  look  !" 

He  took  her  proffered  hand  as  she  stepped  from  the 
higher  ground  to  a  dip  in  the  dunes,  and  then  turning 
about  to  see  that  they  were  unobserved  he  took  her  face 
between  his  strong  hands  and  kissed  her. 

"  There  now,  you  have  rumpled  my  hat,"  she  said  in  her 
fascinating  imperative  way.  "  Serves  me  right,  I  ought  to 
have  changed  it  and  my  dress,  too  ;  but  I  thought  you 
would  be  mad  if  I  kept  you  waiting." 

She  turned  her  head  as  if  she  expected  to  see  someone 
on  the  bank. 

"  Mad,  nothing  could  ever  make  me  mad  with  you  !  " 


DAVID'S  SWEETHEART.  l^^ 

11  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  she  replied,  readjusting 
her  hat,  and,  with  an  affected  fastidiousness,  stepping 
among  the  gray-blue  marrams  and  over  the  sea-thistles  and 
yellow  lavender  that  decorated  the  dunes. 

"  Don't  you  see  I  have  got  on  my  Sunday  shoes,"  she  said, 
in  answer  to  his  look  of  surprise. 

"  Shall  I  carry  you  ?  "  David  replied,  stopping  to  ask  the 
question. 

"  Carry  me  ;  no  !  "  she  said.     "  I  don't  think  you  could." 

"  Couldn't  I  though  !  "  the  lad  replied,  putting  out  his 
arms. 

"  Then  you  won't,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  spoil  my  shoes  for 
all  that." 

"  Shall  I  lend  you  mine  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  get  into  that  dirty  boat  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you,"  said  David,  "  when  we  get  there." 

The  boat  lay  in  little  more  than  an  indentation  of  the 
beach,  made  by  the  constant  dragging  of  it  and  certain 
yawls  that  were  occasionally  hauled  up  there  by  rope  and 
windlass,  and  it  was  quite  a  distance  from  the  ridge  along 
the  hilly  dunes  to  the  beach.  Every  now  and  then  when 
they  were  hidden  from  view  David  would  stop  to  admire 
the  fisherman's  coquettish  daughter,  the  like  of  whom  for 
wit  and  dash — and  for  dress  and  vanity,  some  would  add — 
the  whole  coast  from  the  Wash  to  Hunstanton,  towns  and 
cities  included,  could  not  show  ;  and  David  delighted  in 
the  wayward,  pretty  girl,  more  particularly  on  this  day  of 
all  others  when  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  actually  dressed  for 
the  occasion  that  to  him  was  fraught  with  so  much  moment. 

At  length  they  came  to  the  boat,  a  lumbering  kind  of 
dingey,  with  long  oars  and  a  rough  brown  sail  stowed  away 
on  the  bottom,  a  bit  of  old  tarpaulin,  smelling  of  fish,  and  a 
roomy  bit  of  seat  that  had  been  the  work  of  David,  fixed 
low  down  by  the  tiller. 

"  Sand  isn't  dirt,  you  know,"  said  David,  "  it  really  cleans 


178  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

things,  and  sand  like  this  is  good  enough  for  Lawyer 
Petherick's  pounce-box;"  jumping  aboard  and  making  a 
gigantic  duster  of  the  tarpaulin,  and  then  dropping  it  over 
on  the  sand. 

"  I  don't  think  I'll  go,"  she  said,  meaning  to  go  all  the 
time.  "  I  shall  spoil  my  things." 

"  Not  go  !  "  said  David,  looking  at  her,  a  very  sailor- 
man  in  his  rough  jacket  and  his  slouch  hat  pushed  back 
from  his  open  forehead. 

She  could  not  help  admiring  him  as  he  stood  up  for  a 
moment,  and  watched  the  anxious  expression  of  his  face 
change  to  delight  when  he  understood  that  she  was  only 
playing  with  him.  Then  she  mentally  compared  him  with 
Harry  Barkstead,  the  university  gentleman,  with  his  super- 
fine manners  and  his  boastful  commanding  ways. 

David  plunged  down  and,  thrusting  his  long  arms  into 
the  thurruck  beneath  the  seat  he  had  made  for  days  of 
sailing  when  Elmira  was  more  than  usually  difficult  to 
please,  he  drew  out  a  pilot  jacket  and  a  great  woolen 
muffler,  with  which  he  constructed  a  cushion. 

"  There  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  now  give  me  your  hand  !  " 

Elmira  could  have  vaulted  into  the  boat  with  ease,  as 
she  .had  done  many  a  time  ;  but  she  enjoyed  David's  con- 
siderate acts  of  courtesy.  They  made  her  feel  more  like  a 
lady,  and  less  like  a  fisherman's  daughter,  though  in  her 
way  she  was  proud  of  her  father.  It  was  only  when  Harry 
Barkstead  called  at  their  cottage  that  she  felt  a  little 
ashamed  of  her  father's  homely  ways  and  want  of 
education. 

"  It's  all  very  well  to  start  in  a  clean  boat,  but  how  will 
it  be  when  we've  taken  on  board  a  cargo  of  father's  fish  ? " 

She  had  seen  away  in  the  distance  the  figure  of  Harry 
Barkstead,  and  could  not  help  wondering  why  he  had  fol- 
lowed her,  and  then  disappeared  as  if  he  had  dropped  into 
the  earth.  He  must  be  lying  down  in  one  of  the  valleys  of 


DAVID'S  SWEETHEART.  179 

the  dunes.  "Why?"  she  wondered,  in  a  curious  and 
indefinite  way. 

"  If  it  comes  to  that,"  said  David,  "  we  won't  take  in  any 
cargo  ;  we'll  make  a  passenger  boat  of  the  Swallow.  By 
the  way,  I  wonder  Zaccheus  thought  of  calling  a  great  lum- 
bering boat  like  this  the  Swallow.  Come,  Mira  ;  now  see, 
it  is  fit  for  any  queen,  and,  therefore,  almost  fit  for  you." 

He  took  both  her  hands.  She  smiled  and  yielded,  and 
yet  she  wondered  what  Harry  Barkstead  could  mean  by 
following  her,  and  when  he  saw  David  waiting,  should  stay 
behind  and  hide.  She  did  not  tell  David  what  she  was 
thinking  of. 

"  There  you  are,"  the  boy  exclaimed,  handing  her  to  her 
seat.  "  Never  saw  you  look  so  lovely.  Why,  your  cheeks 
are  rosy  as  a  Dutch  apple." 

"  Tell  me  something  else  that's  disagreeable,"  was  the 
sharp  reply.  "I  hate  to  have  red  cheeks."  And  that  was 
true,  for  her  rivals  said  she  drank  vinegar  to  make  them 
pale.  They  were  pale,  as  a  rule — the  delicate  fairness  that 
is  rare  as  it  is  healthful. 

Then  leaping  ashore  David  seized  the  bow  and  tugged 
the  Swallow  into  the  water.  It  was  no  child's  play  to  haul 
the  dingey  into  the  flowing  tide  ;  but  David  loved  to  test 
his  strength  and  master  difficulties.  She  was  fairly  afloat 
before  he  clambered  aboard  and  pushed  her  into  deep 
water.  Then  he  laid  hold  of  the  oars  and  the  Swallow 
began  to  dance  lightly  over  the  swelling  water  that  rippled 
past  her  and  laid  tributes  of  weed  and  shell  along  the  yellow 
beach. 

"  Your  cheeks  are  red  enough  anyway,"  said  Elmira,  as 
David  paused  to  mop  his  burning  face  with  a  silk  bandanna 
handkerchief  which  had  been  presented  to  him  by  "  Sarah 
Mumford  to  her  dear,  dear  young  master,  David  Keith,"  as 
a  birthday  gift. 

"  I  expect  they  are,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  they  are  hot 


180  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

enough,  but  I  did  not  mean  that  yours  were — you  know 
what  I  mean,  anything  but  lovely  ;  I'm  a  bad  hand  at  a 
compliment." 

"  You  said  they  were  red." 

"  I  meant  that  there  was  just  a  little  flush  upon  them 
like " 

"  Like  a  dairymaid,  "  she  replied  ;  "  you  are  too  compli- 
mentary ;  "  and  then  when  she  saw  a  shadow  of  disappoint- 
ment and  anxiety  fall  across  the  boy's  face,  she  laughed 
and  showed  her  white  firm  teeth,  and  cried,  "  There,  don't 
be  silly,  pull  away  !  "  and  took  off  her  long  gloves  that 
reached  to  her  dimpled  elbows,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  the 
tiller,  putting  the  boat's  head  straight  for  the  Flying 
Scud. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  was  impatient  for  your  coming  to- 
day, more  particularly  impatient,  I  mean  ? "  David  asked, 
pulling  easy  ;  "  of  course  you  don't." 

"  It  is  generally  because  you  love  me  so,"  she  answered 
archly,  "at  least  that  is  your  excuse  for  being  so  rude  as  to 
tell  me  how  late  I  am." 

"  Well,  that  is  always  the  reason,"  he  answered,  "  to-day 
more  than  ever.  I  have  something  dreadfully  important  to 
tell  you,  something  that  nobody  knows  as  yet,  except  my 
trustees  and  me." 

''  It's  a  secret,  then  ?"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  a  sort  of  a  secret — at  present,"  he  replied. 

"  You  mean  it  will  no  longer  be  a  secret  when  you  have 
told  me  !  " 

"  They  do  say  women  can't  keep  secrets,"  said  David, 
"  but  I  believe  they  can  do  anything  ;  I  know  you  can — that 
is,  anything  a  woman  might  be  proud  to  do." 

"Why  have  you  taken  to  calling  me  a  woman  all  at 
once  ? "  she  asked.  "  I  am  not  so  old  as  you  ;  and  I'm 
sure  I  never  thought  of  calling  you  a  man." 

"  Then  I  really  believe  you  will  when  I  have  told  you 


DAVID'S  SWEETHEART.  181 

what  I  was  telling  to  the  sea  and  the  sky  and  the  dear  old 
dunes  for  lack  of  you,  when  I  saw  you  come  sailing  along 
the  sand-hills  like  a  fairy  yacht  on  a  fairy  sea." 

"Very  well,  I  am  listening,"  she  replied,  "  tell  me  while 
I  put  the  Swallow's  head  about — here's  a  boat  from  the 
Scud  signaling  us." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DAVID  TELLS  ELMIRA  OF   HIS   MISSION    TO    NEWFOUNDLAND. 

"Steady  !  let  them  come  up  to  us,"  said  David. 

The  Flying  Scud's  boat  drew  alongside. 

"  Capp'n  Webb  says  yo'  moughtn  as  well  put  back;  he  be 
goin'  to  land  catch  at  jetty  and  'ull  be  hum  to  supper." 

As  a  rule  the  fishermen  ferried  their  hauls  from  the  road 
to  the  beach,  where  the  women  washed  and  packed  the 
mackerel  or  herrings,  as  the  case  might  be,  while  the 
auctioneer's  bell  resounded  along  the  coast,  to  notify  the 
lots  of  fish  he  had  for  public  sale.  In  the  regular  fishing 
season,  when  "  the  poor  man's  fish  "  was  the  harvest  of  the 
sea,  in  which  Yarmouth  chiefly  engaged,  the  beach  was  a 
sight  to  behold.  Men  must  have  a  chief.  If  some  bold 
spirit  does  not  elect  itself  to  domineer  over  a  community, 
the  community  will  elect  one.  Even  Heart's  Delight, 
freed  from  the  tyranny  of  the  admiral's  rule,  when  the  fish- 
ing season  was  over,  must  have  a  leader,  and  they  obeyed 
David  Plympton.  The  Yarmouth  fisherman,  in  the  old 
days,  and  quite  late  in  the  present  century,  would  elect  a 
"mayor"  to  settle  all  disputes  that  might  arise  among 
them.  He  was  dressed  in  a  half-classical  kind  of  a  way 
to  represent  Neptune,  and  was  carried  about  the  town  in  a 
gayly  decorated  boat  on  wheels.  In  the  midst  of  these 
opening  festivities  the  Dutch  fishing  fleet  would  come  sail- 
ing in,  and  then  there  was  the  "  Dutch  Sunday,"  with  its 
commingling  of  foreign  folk  and  British,  and  "  all  the  fun 
of  the  fair,"  which  the  knowing  Hollanders  held  upon  the 
beach  for  the  sale  of  various  toys  and  wooden  shoes,  globes 
of  cheese,  and  red-faced  apples.  Added  to  the  Dutch 


DAVID  TELLS  ELM  IRA  OF  HIS  MISSION.          183 

fleet,  the  North  Country  boats  often  brought  owners  and 
captains  and  their  wives,  and  they  lodged  in  the  Rows,  and 
helped  to  make  Yarmouth  busy  on  market  days,  when  the 
local  traders  and  kiddiers  laid  out  their  stalls  and  spread 
their  white  awnings,  making  the  market  square  gay  and 
busy. 

But  this  July  fishing  of  Zaccheus  Webb  and  the  rest  was 
what  might  be  called  the  off-season,  and  it  made  no  partic- 
ular addition  to  the  beach  life  of  the  time  ;  and,  moreover, 
old  Zacky  had  a  warehouse  and  fish-curing  place  in  the 
town,  and  he  generally  had  carts  at  the  jetty  to  carry  his 
cargoes  thither,  except  now  and  then  in  the  matter  of  a 
small  take  in  a  July  fishing. 

"All  right,"  said  David,  and  Elmira  waved  her  handker- 
chief to  the  Flying  Scud,  which  had  lifted  her  anchor,  and 
was  already  inviting  the  breeze  with  her  great  brown 
sails. 

"  But  we  won't  put  back,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Elmira.  "  Won't  you  hoist  sail,  and  then 
you  can  talk  without  stopping  to  puff  and  blow  like  a 
grampus,  as  father  would  say." 

She  leaned  back  and  laughed  as  she  criticised  her  com- 
panion, who  had  found  his  secret  and  the  heat  a  little 
trying. 

"  I  am  not  quite  up  to  my  usual  form,  I  grant  you," 
said  David,  "but  I'm  equal  to  row  you  to  the  opposite 
coast  and  cast  anchor  at  Schevenham,  if  you  wish." 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  know  how  strong  you  are,  and  how 
proud  you  are  of  it,"  she  replied,  still  laughing. 

"  Who  have  you  been  sharpening  your  wit  upon  in  the 
town  ? "  the  boy  asked,  shipping  his  two  heavy  oars. 

"  If  you  smudge  my  gown  I'll  never  forgive  you,"  she 
said,  without  noticing  his  question,  but  moving  as  far  away 
as  she  could  from  the  mast  and  ropes  which  David  began  to 
get  into  place.  Presently  he  hauled  up  the  lugger  sail,  and 


1 84  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Elmira  put  the  boat  about  to  catch  the  breeze  which  began 
to  freshen  as  the  sun  declined. 

"  You  really  ought  to  be  a  sailor,"  said  Elmira,  as  the 
boy  hauled  the  sail  taut  against  the  mast,  and  offered  her 
the  control  of  the  rope. 

"  There,"  he  said,  making  a  cushion  of  a  piece  of  tar- 
paulin and  a  pilot  jacket  which  he  had  flung  into  the  boat 
at  starting.  "  If  you'll  sit  here,  I'll  come  to  the  tiller. 
That's  it  ;  and  if  I  ought  to  be  a  sailor,  I'm  sure  you  ought 
to  be  a  sailor's  wife." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  she  said,  "  it  is  not  my  ambition,  I  assure 
you." 

"  I  hope  not,  for  I  am  to  be  a  lawyer  ;  but  law  or  no  law, 
we'll  have  our  boat,  Mira,  not  to  say  our  yacht." 

"  Will  we  ? "  she  said,  settling  herself  comfortably  at  his 
feet,  and  holding  the  line  with  the  hand  of  an  expert. 

"  Will  we  ?  Why,  of  course  we  will ;  and  we'll  sail  right 
round  the  world.  When  I  come  into  my  money,  Mira,  I 
fear  I  shall  astonish  poor  old  Petherick." 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  said,  "  I  didn't  know  you  were  coming  into 
any  money,  David." 

"  Nor  did  I,"  said  David,  "  until  this  week  ;  that  is  one 
of  the  things  I  want  to  talk  about." 

"  Very  well,  as  I  said  before,  I  am  listening." 

"  This  is  how  it  is  ;  my  grandfather  Plympton  died  ten 
years  ago  ;  he  left  me  his  heir,  but  his  lands  had  been  con- 
fiscated ;  the  case  has  been  in  the  courts  ;  his  trustees 
have  been  fighting  it  off  and  on  ever  since  he  died,  and  at 
last  it  has  been  decided  that  a  certain  piece  of  territory  at 
Heart's  Delight  in  Newfoundland,  originally  granted  to  his 
father  and  which  he  inherited,  is  to  be  restored  to  his  heirs 
and  assigns — well,  Mira,  my  dear,  I  am  his  heir  and 
assigns — in  fact  his  heir,  and  I  am  to  go  to  Newfoundland 
to  take  possession." 

"  To  Newfoundland  !  "  Elmira  exclaimed. 


DAVID   TELLS  ELM  IRA  OF  HIS  MISSION.          185 

"  Yes,  to  Newfoundland." 

"  You  seem  very  glad." 

"  I  am." 

"  To  go  away.  And  yet  you  say  you  love  me  and  cannot 
live  without  me." 

"  That  is  why  I  am  glad." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Because,  you  see,  when  all  that  is  settled  I  shall  come 
back  and  marry  you." 

"  It  takes  two  to  make  a  wedding,"  said  Elmira. 

"  I  know  that,  and  we  shall  be  the  happiest  two  in  the 
world,"  he  said,  leaning  over  her  and  kissing  her. 

"  You  are  very  masterful  now  that  you  are  going  to  have 
a  bit  of  money,"  she  said,  untying  her  hat,  and  pinning  the 
strings  to  the  waistband  of  her  gown. 

"  Yes,  my  own,"  he  said,  smoothing  her  hair  as  she 
coquettishly  laid  her  head  near  him  and  then  rested  it  upon 
his  knee. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  be  rich,  David  ?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly  rich  ;  Petherick  doesn't  know  what  the 
land's  worth  yet  ;  and  there  is,  it  appears,  a  recent  pur- 
chase of  territory  in  Labrador  that  the  old  man  made  just 
before  he  died,  but  Petherick  says  it  is  a  piece  of  no-man's 
land  that's  worth  nothing  to  anybody  unless  there  may  be 
minerals  ;  supposing  there  are,  they  might  not  be  worth 
working,  so  the  Labrador  inheritance  does  not  count." 

"  I  never  said  I  would  marry  you,"  laughed  Elmira, 
pressing  her  head  against  him. 

"  You  have  said  it  in  your  eyes  ;  you  have  said  it  with 
your  lips  when  they  uttered  no  words,  and  with  your  dear 
hand  when  we  have  said  good-night  ;  you  are  saying  it 
now.  O  Mira,  what  would  become  of  me  if  you  were  to 
say  no,  or  if  I  lost  you,  or  we  were  parted  ;  well,  I  should 
go  crazy,  that's  all  !  " 

She  permitted  David  to  draw  her  nearer  to  him  so  that 


1 86  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

he  could  look  into  her  eyes,  and  as  he  loosed  the  tiller,  and 
the  boat  drifted  with  a  flapping  sail,  he  kissed  her  with  his 
burning  lips  and  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  asked  her  if  she  truly 
loved  him  ;  "  not  as  I  love  you,"  he  said,  "  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul,  and  with  every  thought,  and  at  every 
moment  of  my  life,  night  and  day  ;  but  enough  to  bear  with 
me,  and  let  me  devote  my  life  to  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  David,  I  love  you,"  she  said,  overcome  with  his 
passion,  and  returning  his  hot  kisses,  "  and  I  will  marry 
you  ! " 

"My  darling !"  he  exclaimed,  "My  darling!"  and  he 
could  say  no  more  ;  nor  did  he  speak  for  ever  so  long,  and 
the  boat  drifted  round  and  headed  as  if  of  her  own  accord 
for  Caister  and  home. 

The  sun  was  sinking  beneath  the  sea.  A  light  cool 
breeze  arose.  David  kept  the  Swallow's  head  straight  for 
Caister  ;  and  for  the  time  being  the  world  held  no  happier 
couple  than  David  Keith  and  Elmira  Webb.  She  had 
given  herself  up  to  the  glamour  of  the  time.  He  had 
realized  in  her  confession  the  dearest  wish  of  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
"  'TWAS  DOWN  IN  CUPID'S  GARDEN." 

LOVE — or  what  is  generally  known  as  love — is  a  ticklish 
business.  Elmira,  with  David's  arm  round  her  as  they 
walked  along  the  dunes  in  the  moonlight  to  her  father's 
cottage,  believed  she  loved  David  Keith.  Between  his 
embraces,  and  as  sequels  to  his  predictions  of  happy  days  in 
store,  she  indulged  in  curious  speculations  of  what  Harry 
Barkstead  would  say.  He  was  the  beau  ideal  of  the  east 
coast  girl's  fancy — he  was  so  bold,  "  had  such  a  way  with 
him,  and  was  so  much  the  gentleman." 

Then  there  were  other  wooers  who  had  followed  Elmira 
with  their  eyes  and  sent  her  hot  love  messages  on  St. 
Valentine's  day. 

It  occurred  to  her  to  think  there  was  something  selfish  in 
David's  desire  to  secure  her  all  to  himself,  to  rob  her  of  the 
freedom  of  flirtation  ;  but  the  last  he  should  never  do,  she 
whispered  to  herself,  even  as  he  talked  of  his  trip  to  New- 
foundland and  his  return  to  marry  his  love  and  set  up  house- 
keeping wherever  she  pleased. 

The  truth  is  Elmira  had  not  the  gift  of  constancy.  She 
was  constitutionally  disingenuous.  She  could  not  help  it 
perhaps.  If  she  had  had  some  guiding  authority  to  warn  her 
against  her  natural  shortcomings  she  might  have  improved 
upon  them.  She  lacked  conscientiousness.  Her  moral 
faculties  were  weak.  What  phrenologists  call  self-esteem 
and  amativeness  were  out  of  proportion  with  the  controlling 
organs  necessary  to  make  them  virtues.  Elmira's  mother, 
moreover,  died  when  she  was  a  child,  and  she  had  a  certain 
politic  strain  in  her  intellectual  organism  that  enabled  and 


1 88  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

induced  her  to  disguise  from  her  father  those  characteristics 
which  might  have  shocked  or  pained  him,  rough  and  uncul- 
tured though  he  undoubtedly  was,  for  his  education  had 
been  an  experience  by  land  and  sea,  altogether  outside  of 
books  and  schools. 

The  common  people  of  Caister  and  Yarmouth  called 
Harry's  father,  Justice  Barkstead  ;  the  county  folk  knew 
him  as  Sir  Anthony  Barkstead,  Baronet.  As  a  justice  of 
the  peace,  however,  he  had  won  more  renown  than  he  had 
in  his  position  as  a  baronet  of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland.  He  was  a  regular  attendant  at  the 
Sessions,  and  he  was  a  county  magistrate  as  well  as  a  magis- 
trate of  the  borough  of  Yarmouth,  having  qualifications  in 
both  county  and  town.  He  was  a  very  rich  man,  had  come 
of  a  rich  family,  and  had  married  a  rich  wife,  chiefly  through 
whose  influence  he  had  been  made  a  baronet ;  for  curiously 
enough  his  descent  from  the  Barkstead  who  was  military 
governor  of  Yarmouth  for  Cromwell,  had  militated  against 
him  with  the  king  and  the  government,  so  long  reaching 
is  the  royal  and  aristocratic  memory  of  England.  Yarmouth 
had  sided  with  the  Parliament,  and  had  suffered  consider- 
ably for  its  hostility  to  the  king.  At  the  restoration  the 
Yarmouth  corporation  was  purged  of  its  disaffected  mem- 
bers, and  an  address  of  sorrow  and  grief  that  had  been 
voted  on  the  death  of  Cromwell  was  obliterated  from  the 
town  records.  The  local  charters  were  surrendered  for  new 
ones,  which  gave  the  king  power  to  nominate  his  adherents 
to  the  chief  offices  of  the  borough.  Barkstead  and  others 
of  the  Parliament's  adherents  fled  to  Holland.  The  States, 
under  pressure,  gave  them  up,  and  they  were  hanged,  drawn, 
and  quartered  at  Tyburn,  Barkstead,  the  ancestor  of  the 
Yarmouth  justice  of  our  story,  with  the  rest,  taking  their 
death  cheerfully  and  maintaining  that  what  they  had  done 
was  in  the  cause  of  justice.  Succeeding  Barksteads  lived  to 
prosper  and  win  the  respect  of  Hollanders  and  the  men  of 


"'TWAS  DO  WN  IN  CUPID'S  GARDEN. "  189 

Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  but  whenever  honors  for  any  of  them 
were  spoken  of,  the  Premier  of  the  time  shrunk  from  recom- 
mending for  distinction  the  descendants  of  a  man  who  signed 
the  death  warrant  of  Charles,  and  was  hanged  at  Tyburn. 
Strange  that  this  should  have  been  remembered  against 
them  in  spite  of  services  in  Parliament  and  in  battle  ;  but 
when  Squire  Barkstead,  of  Ombersley  Hall,  justice  of  the 
peace  and  millionaire,  married  into  the  family  of  the  loyal 
Pastonnes,  the  criminal  strain,  so-called,  was  overlooked, 
and  while  quite  a  boy  Harry  was  made  heir  to  a  baronetcy 
as  well  as  heir  to  thousands  of  freehold  acres  besides  foreign 
scrip  and  shares  in  the  New  River  near  London.  Sir 
Anthony  was  a  man  of  scrupulous  honor,  generous  to  a  fault, 
but  rigid  in  his  views  of  morality  and  religion,  a  fearless  and 
honest  justice  of  the  peace,  regarding  the  poor  rather  with 
lenience  than  the  rich,  whom  he  debited  in  his  judgments 
with  their  advantages  of  education  and  responsibility  to 
society  whenever  it  came  to  be  his  duty  to  deal  with  what 
Yarmouth  called  the  quality. 

Justice  Barkstead  had  loved  his  wife  devoutly.  On  her 
deathbed  she  had  commended  Harry  to  his  affectionate 
care,  and  Sir  Anthony  had  found  comfort  and  solace  in  the 
lad's  advancement  until  of  late  years,  when  he  had  grown 
out  of  his  control  and  authority,  a  patron  of  the  turf,  fond 
of  society,  a  man  of  fashion  in  London,  with  a  stable  at 
Melton,  a  yacht  at  Cowes,  and  guilty  of  every  extravagance. 
Of  late  years  he  and  his  father  had  had  serious  words  about 
his  excessive  expenditure.  Sir  Anthony  had  pointed  out  to 
him  that  such  a  leakage  as  he  had  introduced  into  the 
Barkstead  banking  account  might  in  time  drain  off  not  only 
thousands  but  millions.  Harry  would  for  a  time  neutralize 
the  ill  effect  of  these  scenes  by  a  visit  to  Ormsby,  to  join 
his  father  in  his  country  work  and  pleasures,  visiting  his 
friends,  sitting  with  him  on  the  bench,  shooting  over  his 
manors,  flushing  the  duck  covers  at  Fritton  and  Ormsby 


19°  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

broads,  and  making  himself  generally  agreeable.  These 
visits,  alas  !  were  incidents  in  the  lives  of  some  of  the  girls 
of  Yarmouth  and  Lowestoft  that  left  sad  shadows  behind 
them.  Harry  Barkstead  was  known  to  the  county  as  a 
remarkably  successful  young  fellow  with  women,  "  a  regu- 
lar Don  Juan,  by  Jove,"  it  was  said  at  the  county  club. 
The  worst  of  it  all  was  the  fellow  had  such  pleasant  and 
gracious  manners;  he  was  just  as  free  and  frank  with  the 
poor  as  he  was  with  the  rich  ;  he  had  inherited  from  his 
mother  the  charm  of  manner  for  which  the  Pastonnes  were 
distinguished,  and  with  it  the  gracelessness  and  villainous 
gallantries  of  the  court  at  which  the  Pastonnes  were  famous 
in  its  worst  days.  When  Harry  brought  his  yacht  round 
to  Yarmouth  he  would  make  friends  with  the  entire  com- 
munity, take  seats  for  their  new  theater,  attend  their  con- 
certs, visit  with  the  mayor,  and  boat  along  the  shore  to 
talk  to  the  beachmen.  He  had  long  shown  a  particular 
fancy  for  old  Zacky  Webb  and  the  lookout  men  of  Caister 
Point.  Many  a  time  had  he  sat  and  smoked  a  cigar  in  the 
little  house  on  stilts  and  discussed  nautical  affairs  with 
them.  He  loved  "  to  get  old  Zacky  on "  about  Sir 
Anthony's  notions  concerning  the  destinies  of  Scroby  Sands 
and  Yarmouth. 

David  felt  it  an  honor  to  have  Harry  Barkstead  for  his 
friend  whenever  that  young  hidalgo  visited  Onnsby  Hall. 
What  wonder,  then,  that  Elmira  Webb  should  feel  flattered 
by  his  attentions.  She  was  clever  enough,  however,  to 
understand  that  there  was  more  of  the  real  true  lover  in 
David  than  in  Harry.  She  was  vain  enough  to  think  she 
could  rival  the  prettiest  of  women,  whatever  their  high 
position  might  be,  if  she  had  a  chance  ;  but  it  was  already 
a  tradition  of  the  coast  that  Harry  Barkstead  was  not  a 
marrying  man.  On  the  contrary  he  was  looked  upon,  by 
such  young  women  as  Elmira  had  heard  discuss  him,  as  a 
sultan  who  threw  his  handkerchief,  a  cavalier  who  counted 


"'TWAS  DO  WN  IN  CUPID'S  GA  RDEN. "  191 

his  conquests,  and  could  never  be  caught  in  the  bonds  of 
matrimony.  Elmira  went  to  church  and  taught  in  the  Sun- 
day school,  so  she  knew  what  the  young  women  of  Yar- 
mouth thought  about  young  Squire  Barkstead,  as  some  of 
them  called  him.  Furthermore,  Mildred  Hope  had  in  her 
quiet  way  ventured  to  caution  her  against  the  blandishments 
of  Sir  Anthony's  son,  who  not  only  chatted  with  Zaccheus 
at  Caister  Point,  but  looked  in  occasionally  at  the  cottage 
on  the  dunes  to  chat  with  him  about  the  mysteries  of  his 
trade. 

Indeed,  when  David  and  Elmira  arrived  at  Webb's 
quaint  old  house  on  the  night  of  their  memorable  sail, 
Harry  Barkstead  was  sitting  in  the  little  garden,  smoking 
a  cigar.  He  had  been  there  for  over  an  hour,  during  the 
latter  part  of  which  he  had  been  watching  through  a  short, 
but  effective  glass  the  maneuvers  of  the  Swallow — not  to 
mention  the  maneuvers  of  the  boat's  happy  occupants. 
The  devil  of  selfishness  and  lust  had  tempted  him  to  be 
jealous  of  his  unsophisticated  friend,  David  Keith. 

There  are  natures  that  cannot  endure  to  look  upon  the 
happiness  of  either  friend  or  foe  ;  jealous  natures  that  hate 
other  men's  successes  even  in  the  ordinary  paths  of  life  ; 
but  the  professed  "  lady-killer,"  as  some  men  are  wont  to 
be  called,  is  not  inaptly  typified  by  the  dog  in  the  manger. 

Harry  Barkstead  found  his  friendship  for  David  and  his 
liking  for  old  Zaccheus  Webb  in  conflict  with  his  habit  of 
being  first  and  foremost  in  all  things.  He  resented  David's 
successful  courtship  of  the  girl  who  had  turned  many  a 
young  head  on  the  coast  and  inland,  and  was  acknowledged 
to  be  phenomenally  pretty.  How,  indeed,  she  came  to  be 
Zaccheus  Webb's  daughter  was  mirthfully  treated  as  a 
mystery  of  heredity  in  the  county  circles  of  Norfolk  where- 
ever  Harry  had  heard  her  mentioned. 

It  was  a  garden  in  which  holier  thoughts  than  those  that 
occupied  Harry's  mind  might  well  have  had  place;  but 


192  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Eden  was  beyond  all  gardens  lovely,  and  yet  the  serpent 
had  his  way  there  ;  and  why  in  the  still  more  degenerate 
days  of  this  history  should  one  be  surprised  at  the  spirit  of 
evil  invading  the  little  paradise  of  Webb's  cottage  on  the 
Upper  Dunes  at  Caister.  Harry  Barkstead  sat  upon  a 
rustic  seat  that  had  been  made  out  of  the  timbers  of  a  wreck 
on  the  North  Cross  sands,  backed  with  the  figure-head  of  an 
East  Indiaman,  a  dusky  beauty  with  -golden  crown  and 
necklace,  propitiatory  deity  of  some  long  lost  vessel  trading 
to  the  Eastern  seas.  The  gold  had  faded,  and  the  dark 
visage  aud  half  robed  form  was  worn  with  time  and  tide, 
with  wind  and  weather,  the  original  timber  showing  through 
the  rough  tawdry  blue  of  the  gown,  the  grain  of  the  origi- 
nal oak  marking  the  not  too  comely  features  of  the  pathetic 
image,  all  that  was  left  of  a  well  formed  ship,  that  had 
sailed  the  seas  with  brave  and  merry  hearts,  to  go  to  pieces 
at  last  upon  the  Needles,  whither  Zaccheus  had  brought 
this  relic  for  his  Norfolk  garden.  "  Not  as  he  moughtn't  a 
got  a  more  ornamental  figger  at  hum,  but  seemed  as  if  un 
took  to  the  dark  lady,  and  so  bein'  in  them  other  seas  he 
brote  her  along,"  and  set  her  up  for  a  token  of  the  dangers 
of  the  deep. 

Harry  heeded  her  not,  nor  the  hollyhock  nor  nasturtiums 
that  half  hid  her  battered  visage,  the  tall  pyramidian  flowers 
of  pink  and  red  growing  aloft  and  waving  in  the  breeze 
like  half-furled  flags,  the  nasturtiums  creeping  after  them 
and  clinging  to  seat  and  figure,  and  putting  forth  cheerful 
splashes  of  color  and  great  round  leaves  that  waved  in 
sympathy  with  the  hollyhock's  flexible  columns  of  leaf  and 
bloom. 

It  was  a  large  square  garden  of  summer  flowers,  arranged 
in  well-kept  beds,  and  bordered  with  paths  of  sea  sand. 
Clove  pink  and  sweet  briar  mingled  their  perfumes  with  the 
rose,  and  great  yellow  pansies  lay  in  beds  alongside  bunches 
of  dwarf  sweet-pea. 


"'TWAS  DOWN  IN  CUPID'S  GARDEN."  193 

The  cottage  was  built  of  ordinary  local  brick  and  stone, 
with  a  wooden  porch  and  seat,  and  over  the  door  and  up 
beneath  the  eaves  of  the  chamber  windows  climbing  roses 
clustered  close  and  sweet.  It  is  not  always  sunny  along 
the  east  coast ;  inland  the  wind  blows,  the  rain  beats  ;  it  is 
often  bitterly  cold  even  in  June  and  July,  but  nothing 
seems  to  make  any  difference  to  the  flowers  even  to  this 
day.  You  may  ride  and  drive  through  Norfolk  and  Suffolk 
in  cold  or  storm,  in  sun  or  shower,  and  you  shall  still  find 
every  bit  of  available  garden  that  is  not  devoted  to  kitchen 
vegetables,  herbs,  and  fruits,  thick  with  luxuriant  flowers, 
every  cottage  rejoicing  in  floral  color  and  perfume,  every  bit 
of  frontage  gay  with  flowers  that  seem  to  climb  into  the 
window  boxes  and  spread  themselves  over  walls  and  up  the 
homely  sides  of  cottage  doors. 

Such  a  garden  was  that  which  fronted  Zaccheus  Webb's 
cottage,  which  was  by  no  means  an  ordinary  cottage ;  it 
had  two  stories,  and  on  the  ground  floor  house-place  and 
best  parlor,  besides  front  kitchens  and  back  kitchens,  and 
a  stable  wherein  Zaccheus  kept  an  old  cob  that  was  useful 
for  hauling  boats  upon  the  dunes  and  bringing  in  coal  from 
Yarmouth  and  other  purposes.  This  also  gave  Zaccheus 
a  good  excuse  for  keeping  a  man  to  attend  to  the  garden 
and  do  odd  jobs  afloat  and  ashore  ;  and  old  Charity  Dene, 
his  housekeeper  and  domestic  servant  in  general,  took  care 
to  make  that  sea  and  stable  help  useful  in  both  house  and 
garden.  It  was  as  comfortable  and  well-ordered  a  home  as 
you  might  find  in  a  march  of  fifty  miles,  be  the  dwelling 
rich  man's  or  poor  ;  for  Elmira  was  no  sloven  ;  she  was 
just  as  house-proud  as  she  was  vain  of  her  personal  appear- 
ance ;  she  lent  a  willing  hand  to  Charity  Dene,  and  was  up 
and  at  work  with  the  earliest  lark  that  sang  to  the  varied 
heavens  that  changed  from  gray  to  blue,  from  sun  to  dark- 
ness above  the  rolling  dunes.  The  best  parlor  was  her  own 
special  delight.  Within  a  few  months  of  the  time  when 


194  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

David  asked  her  to  marry  him,  Zaccheus  had  added  a 
spinet  to  its  curious  and  miscellaneous  furniture.  He  had 
brought  it  during  a  business  cruise  all  the  way  from  Boston 
in  Lincolnshire,  a  relic  probably  of  a  home  that  had  con- 
tributed its  emigrants  to  the  ships  that  had  sailed  thence 
and  from  the  Netherlands  to  people  Massachusetts.  Once 
a  week  Mildred  Hope  had  given  Elmira  a  lesson  upon  the 
spinet,  and  already  the  precocious  pupil  could  play  a  little 
tune  all  out  of  her  own  head.  One  day,  to  Mildred's 
astonishment,  she  sang  the  words,  too,  and  with  as  pretty 
and  dainty  a  grace  as  heart  could  desire,  though  Mildred 
would  rather  the  ballad  had  been  of  a  more  serious  turn 
than  : 

'Twas  down  in  Cupid's  garden 

For  pleasure  I  did  go, 
To  see  the  fairest  flowers 

That  in  the  garden  grow. 
The  first  it  was  a  jessamine, 

The  lily,  pink,  and  rose, 
And  surely  they're  the  fairest  flowers 

That  in  the  garden  grows. 

Mildred  did  not  deny  the  aptness  of  the  song's  compari- 
sons of  girls  and  flowers,  but  she  contended  that  there  was 
an  over-boldness  on  the  part  of  the  maiden,  who,  telling  the 
stranger  she  meant  to  live  a  virgin  and  still  the  laurel  wear, 
straightway  changed  her  mind  and  made  quick  confession 
thereof : 

Then  hand  in  hand  together 

This  lovely  couple  went, 
Resolved  was  the  sailor  boy 

To  know  her  full  intent — 
To  know  if  he  would  slighted  be 

When  to  her  the  truth  he  told  ; 
Oh,  no  !  oh,  no  !  she  cried, 

I  love  a  sailor  bold  ! 

I  love  a  sailor  bold  ! 


"'TWAS  DOWN  IN  CUPID* S  GARDEN."          195 

Mildred  Hope's  serious  tone  of  mind  was  in  revolt  at 
Elmira's  choice  of  ballads  ;  but  Zaccheus  Webb  loved  the 
old  songs,  and  had  sat  in  wonderment  and  delight  at 
Elmira's  performance,  the  more  so  when  he  was  informed 
that  she  taught  herself  the  song  and  the  accompaniment 
too.  There  was  a  music  store  in  Yarmouth,  where  Elmira 
had  picked  up  several  simply  set  songs  and  "  Cupid's 
Garden  "  was  a  favorite  ballad  in  Zack's  youth  ;  indeed,  he 
confessed  to  having  sung  it  himself  when  first  he  knew 
Mira's  dead  and  gone  "  mawther,  rest  her  sawl  !  "  Mildred 
took  a  pathetic  interest  in  Elmira,  and  in  a  sad  kind  of  way, 
in  spite  of  David  Keith's  engagement  to  the  girl,  seemed  to 
see  Elmira  in  that  denying  maiden  of  the  song,  taking — 
with  "  No  "  still  fresh  upon  her  lips — the  proffered  hand  of 
the  sailor  bold,  and  going  straightway  to  perdition. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  BREAKERS   AHEAD  !  " 

"  So  here  you  are  at  last,"  said  Harry  Barkstead,  as  David 
and  Elmira  pushed  back  the  gate  and  entered  Cupid's 
Garden. 

"  And  you,  too  !  "  exclaimed  Elmira.  "  Well,  I  never  !  " 
as  if  she  rather  answered  than  asked  a  question. 

Harry  threw  the  end  of  his  cigar  into  the  hedge  and 
advanced  to  meet  his  two  friends — his  humble  friends,  as 
he  would  have  expressed  it  in  his  secret  heart,  notwith- 
standing his  apparent  bonhomie  and  his  frank  and  easy 
manners,  his  happy  treatment  of  both  as  if  they  were  on  the 
most  perfect  equality. 

"  I  saw  your  boat,"  he  said,  "and  thought  I  might  walk 
to  Yarmouth  with  our  friend  David  ;  my  horse  is  at  the 
hotel,  and  I  enjoy  a  tramp  across  the  dunes." 

David  fancied  the  explanation  a  little  labored,  but  not 
the  faintest  idea  of  jealousy  entered  his  boyish  and  trusting 
mind. 

"Oh,  indeed,"  said  Elmira,  with  a  little  laugh — she  had 
a  way  of  laughing,  a  rippling,  chirruping  kind  of  way  that 
David  thought  very  fascinating — "and  you  have  been  wait- 
ing about  all  the  afternoon  to  walk  to  Yarmouth  with  David 
Keith?" 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Miss  Webb  ?  "  Harry  asked,  with 
something  like  a  forced  smile  of  amused  interest. 

"  Do  you  think  I  did  not  see  you  bobbing  up  and  down 
in  the  dunes  an  hour  or  two  since?"  she  said,  gathering  a 
hollyhock  leaf  to  fan  herself  with. 

"  Did  you,  now?"  said  Harry;  "odd  I  did  not  see  David?" 

IQ6 


BREAKERS  AHEAD!"  197 


Oh,  I  was  waiting  for  Mira- 


"  And  had  eyes  for  no  one  else  ;  quite  natural,"  said 
Harry. 

"  Is  father  home  ? "  Elmira  asked. 

"  No  ;  Mrs.  Dene  expects  him  every  moment,  she  tells 
me,"  Harry  answered. 

"  Oh,  you  have  seen  her,  then  ? "  asked  Elmira. 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  and  she  offered  me  a  drink.  And  how 
are  you,  David,  my  boy  ? " 

Harry  turned  from  Elmira  to  ask  after  David's  health,  and 
she  watched  the  two  with  curious  interest,  taking  her  seat 
on  the  bench  which  Harry  had  quitted  as  they  entered  the 
garden. 

"  Never  was  better,"  said  David,  and  then  in  a  lower 
voice,  "  never  was  happier." 

"  Do  you  know  that  David  is  going  to  leave  us  ?  "  Elmira 
asked,  still  fanning  herself  with  the  hollyhock  leaf. 

"  Going  to  leave  us  !  "  exclaimed  Harry. 

"  Secrets  out  of  school,"  said  David,  shaking  a  long 
finger  at  Elmira  with  mock  solemnity. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know  it  was  a  secret  any  more,"  the  girl 
replied,  with  her  pretty  tantalizing  laugh. 

"  Nor  is  it,  Mira,  only  I  wanted  to  tell  him  all  about  it 
myself." 

"  Well,  tell  him  while  I  go  and  see  after  the  supper,"  she 
said  ri&ing,  from  her  seat  and  throwing  down  the  holly- 
hock leaf,  which  Harry  picked  up  and  proceeded  to  fan 
himself  with  it,  at  the  same  time  remarking  that  "  Nature's 
own  fans  are  always  the  best,  the  beauties  of  the  East  pre- 
fer them,  and  the  palm-leaf  is,  I  believe,  the  accepted  fan 
of  Venus." 

"  I  dare  say,"  Elmira  replied,  with  inconsequential 
emphasis. 

"I  fear  I  am  intruding,"  Harry  remarked,  as  the  girl 
moved  toward  the  cottage  porch. 


I98  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"Intruding,"  said  Elmira,  "after  waiting  so  long — no, 
indeed  ! " 

She  laughed,  in  a  half-scoffing  kind  of  way,  as  she 
entered  the  cottage,  and  David  and  his  friend  could  hear 
her  say,  "  We  have  two  guests  for  supper,  Charity — and 
mind  you  treat  them  well,  Master  David  Keith  and  young 
Squire  Barkstead — I  am  going  to  change  my  dress,  if  it  is 
worth  while  now  that  it's  spoiled  with  pulk  down  on  the 
beach  where  we  landed  like  sillies — I  feel  a  sorry  maukin,  I 
can  tell  you." 

Little  dialectic  expressions  on  Elmira's  lips  had  a  fas- 
cinating sound  both  for  David  and  Harry,  and  they  were 
always  thrown  off  in  a  half-apologetic  way  as  if  the  girl 
would  have  them  understand  that  she  knew  better,  but 
would  not  seem  too  proud  of  her  knowledge,  since  her 
father's  language  was  full  of  the  flavor  of  his  Lincolnshire 
and  east  coast  bringing  up,  his  mother  having  been  a  Nor- 
folk dairymaid,  his  father  a  sailorman  from  Grimsby. 

"  Miss  Webb  is  hardly  one  to  complain  of  the  pulk  and 
scum  of  the  sea  ;  what  have  you  been  about,  David  ?  "  said 
Harry. 

"  She  was  not  dressed  for  sailing,  you  see  ;  she  had  been 
into  Yarmouth  and  had  not  time  to  put  on  her  sea-going 
gown,"  said  David,  with  a  blush  suffusing  his  handsome 
open  face,  for  something  in  Harry's  manner  jarred  upon 
him. 

"You  are  quite  a  gallant,"  said  Harry,  "and  you  ought 
to  be  very  proud  of  having  Miss  Webb  in  such  a  hurry  to 
join  you  that  she  has  not  time  to  change  her  dress." 

"  I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean,"  said  David. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do  ;  why,  didn't  you  tell  me  just  now  that 
you  were  never  happier  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  true,  but  you  know  I  don't  care  to  have 
my  happiness  nor  Elmira's  words  treated  lightly,  as  a  mat- 
ter for  joking,  I  mean." 


"  BREAKERS  AHEAD!"  199 

The  boy  flushed  again,  and  hardly  knew  why.  His 
instinct  suggested  that  Harry  was  not  quite  respectful,  not 
exactly  in  his  words  but  in  the  manner  of  his  utterance  of 
them,  and  in  the  way  he  continued  to  fan  himself  with 
Elmira's  discarded  leaf. 

"  Oh,  nonsense  ;  why,  David,  what  is  the  matter  ?"  he  said, 
"  have  a  cigar  till  supper  is  ready,  for  we  are  both  invited, 
you  know." 

Harry  flung  down  the  hollyhock  leaf,  thrust  his  hand  into 
the  breast  pocket  of  his  gray  silk-lined  jacket,  and  produced 
a  cigar  case. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  David,  "  I  smoke  very  seldom, 
and  I  can  wait." 

"  Come,  what  have  I  said  to  anger  you,  David,"  asked 
Barkstead  as  he  proceeded  to  light  a  cigar.  "  Not  being 
hungry,  my  cigar  will  not  spoil  my  supper,  and  I  am  only 
waiting  for  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to  Yarmouth." 

"  Well,  I  did  not  quite  like  what  you  said,  or  rather,  it 
seemed  to  me  very  patronizing,  and  you  know  I  can't  stand 
that." 

"My  dear  David,  forgive  me  if  anything  I  have  said 
could  really  have  hurt  you  ;  you  of  all  others  ought  to  know 
me  better,  old  fellow— here,  come,  say  you  don't  think  so 
meanly  of  me,  David  ;  why,  you  dear,  weak-minded,  fine 
old  fellow,  shake  hands  and  say  you  know  I  did  not  mean 
it  whatever  it  was." 

"Oh,  all  right,  Harry,"  said  David,  taking  the  proffered 
hand,  "  I  suppose  I  am  supersensitive  just  now  ;  I  must 
be  a  fool  to  think  you  could  willfully  say  anything  to  hurt 
me." 

"  Of  course  ;  come  and  sit  down  ;  what  a  lovely  garden 
this  is.  Do  you  know  it  has  been  quite  a  rest  to  sit  here 
and  look  at  the  flowers  and  combat  their  perfumes  with 
the  fumes  of  Raleigh's  golden  weed.  I  declare  Ormesby 
Hall  has  nothing  to  show  equal  to  these  hollyhocks,  nor  to 


200  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

those  blush-roses  that  seem  to  take  a  positive  delight  in 
blooming  and  making  a  carpet  as  well  for  the  butterflies  to 
walk  upon." 

"  You  are  quite  poetic,"  said  David,  crowding  his  lanky 
person  into  the  corner  seat  in  the  shadow  of  the  weather- 
beaten  figurehead. 

"  Oh,  don't  imagine  you  are  the  only  fellow  that  appreci- 
ates Shakspere  and  the  musical  glasses,"  Harry  answered. 
"  But  what  is  this  about  your  going  away,  this  secret  out  of 
school  ? " 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  as  we  walk  to  Yarmouth,"  said  David  ; 
"  I'm  too  hungry  to  talk." 

"  That's  right  ;  when  a  fellow  is  hungry  his  head  is  level, 
and  his  heart  is  in  the  right  place  ;  I  don't  know  any  other 
cry  that  is  so  pleasant  to  satisfy  as  the  cry  of  hunger.  Well, 
let  us  go  into  the  house  and  see  what  Mrs.  Charity  Dene 
has  for  supper." 

He  flung  his  cigar  down  upon  Elmira's  hollyhock  leaf, 
and  took  David's  arm  in  an  almost  affectionate  way,  and 
they  sauntered  along  the  box-edged  path  beneath  the 
porch  way  that  was  laden  with  honeysuckle,  and  into  the 
cottage. 

Elmira  went  into  her  bedroom  and  lighted  two  candles 
in  their  old  brass  sconces  on  each  side  of  the  dressing-table. 
It  was  not  dark.  The  sun  had  gone  down,  but  the  twilight 
was  radiant  with  its  after-glow.  At  the  same  time  Elmira, 
after  looking  out  for  a  moment  upon  the  garden  where  the 
two  young  men  were  hidden  behind  the  commanding  figure 
of  the  dusky  Venus,  drew  the  curtains  over  her  window,  and 
then  she  needed  the  candles.  She  looked  at  herself  in  the 
mirror  which  they  illuminated,  and  smiled  ;  pushed  her 
rich  brown  hair  from  her  forehead,  and  then  drew  it  back 
again  ;  stepped  a  few  yards  from  the  glass  so  that  she  could 
see  part  of  her  dainty  figure,  and  laughed  again,  not  her 
regular  rippling  laugh  but  one  of  approval 


"BREAKERS  AHEAD!"  2OI 

"  My  face  may  be  a  little  red,  but  it  is  the  heat  ;  he  need 
not  have  reminded  me  of  it,"  she  said.  "  Its  very  hot 
now." 

She  drew  the  curtains  and  undid  the  hatch  of  the  window 
to  let  in  the  evening  air.  Then  she  put  out  her  candles, 
drew  the  curtains  back,  and  opened  both  the  lead-glazed 
wings  of  her  lattice  and  looked  out,  drawing  in  a  long 
breath. 

"  I  declare  I  feel  faint,  as  the  town  girls  say,"  she 
remarked.  "  Never  knew  what  it  was  before  ;  think  I  am 
bothered." 

She  saw  the  lights  of  ships  at  sea.  The  sun  had  left  a 
red  streak  far  away  beyond  them. 

The  crescent  moon  attracted  her.  It  was  sharp  and 
bright  now  that  the  sun  had  gone.  It.  shone  like  burnished 
silver,  and  there  were  a  few  stars  here  and  there.  They 
seemed  to  have  a  mist  about  them  that  made  the  moon  look 
all  the  brighter. 

"You  look  as  if  you  were  glad,"  she  said,  addressing  the 
moon  ;  "  they  say  you  can  see  and  hear  what  lovers  do  and 
think.  Eh,  dear,  but  I  wish  I  was  free  again  !  What  is  a 
girl  to  do  who  has  nobody  to  confide  in  ?  Squire  Bark- 
stead  is  very  handsome  ;  well,  so  is  David  Keith — and 
there's  no  mistake  about  David,  he  loves  me  true,  for  sure  ! 
But  I  must  go  down  ;  they'll  think  I  have  been  doing  myself 
up  and  making  myself  fine  all  this  time.  Mira,  dear, 
what's  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

She  closed  the^svindow.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  was  dreaming," 
she  said.  She  relighted  the  candles  and  drew  the  white 
dimity  curtains,  their  brass  rings  making  a  homely  music, 
and  she  began  to  hum  the  tune  of  "Cupid's  Garden." 

Then  she  took  off  her  dress  and  donned  another  hardly 
less  becoming,  though  it  was  of  cotton  stuff  and  brown  ;  it 
had  a  short  waist  and  short  sleeves,  leaving  Mira's  arms 
bare.  She  tied  a  blue  ribbon  round  her  neck  and  there 


202  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

hung  from  it  a  tiny  locket  of  yellow  gold.  It  contained  a 
lock  of  her  mother's  hair  and  a  faded  rose-leaf  from  a  rose 
that  Harry  Barkstead  had  sent  her  in  a  valentine,  "  grown 
for  her,"  as  he  said,  "  in  the  hothouse  of  his  love."  Did 
she  know  it  was  from  Harry  Barkstead  ?  Oh,  yes,  he  had 
confessed  it  one  day  when  he  was  complimenting  her  father 
on  the  Caister  roses.  No,  he  had  not  confessed  it  right 
out,  but  when  Zaccheus  was  lighting  his  pipe  he  had 
hummed  the  words  to  a  familiar  tune,  and  when  Zaccheus 
looked  up  to  listen  he  had  said  Miss  Webb  ought  to  learn 
that  song. 

Harry  was  one  of  those  daring  wooers  who  mean  noth- 
ing serious  and  whom  some  women  encourage  to  their 
cost. 

As  Elmira  tripped  down  the  darkened  stairway  into  the 
house-place,  her  father  was  heard  in  the  back  regions  of 
the  cottage  giving  orders  to  Simeon,  his  man-of-all  work, 
and  presently  in  he  came,  bring  with  him  whiffs  of  sea  and 
land,  a  suggestion  of  fish  and  tobacco,  and  a  generally 
breezy  presence,  as  if  a  boat's  crew  had  just  landed  in  the 
cottage  precincts. 

"  Mira,  my  gal,  there  you  be!"  he  said,  taking  no 
notice  of  the  others,  "I  thought  I  see  yer  as  cummed 
across  the  meals,  but  it  wern't,  mek  no  doubt  ;  so  there 
yer  be  !  " 

He  took  her  into  his  sea-jacketed  arms  and  kissed  her  with 
a  hearty  smack,  and  then  looked  round  about  him.  "Why, 
squire,  this  be  good  for  sore  eyes,  and  David,  the  lawyer, 
welcuni;  yer  looks  keinder  kedgy,  and  that's  how  I'm 
feelin'  mysen  ;  and  I  reckon  we  can  all  peck  a  bit." 

"  But  first  you  will  have  a  wash,  eh,  father  ?"  said  Elmira. 

"That's  so,"  said  Zaccheus,  "  fishin's  not  the  cleanest 
trade,  tho't  mucks  gowd  as  well  as  kibbage  now  and  agen, 
thank  the  Lord  !  " 

As  he  left  the  house-place  his  heavy  boots  clanked  upon 


"  BREAKERS  AHEAD .'  "  203 

the  hard  brick  floor,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  filled  the  door- 
way. He  was  a  big,  burly,  broad,  nautical-looking  man,  a 
cross  between  coasting  captain  and  beachman.  Added  to 
a  wrinkled  weather-beaten  face,  something  the  color  of  the 
dunes  with  streaks  of  red  in  it,  he  had  a  bright  gray  eye,  a 
cheerful  generous  mouth,  and  a  frank,  honest,  out-spoken 
manner  ;  he  grew  his  whiskers  like  a  stiff  fringe  round  his 
face  ;  they  joined  his  bushy  dark  hair  that  had  only  a  few 
gleams  of  white  in  it  ;  and  he  moved  about  with  a  cumber- 
some motion,  something  like  a  Dutch  barge  in  shallow 
water. 

Charity  Dene  had  laid  the  cloth,  and  at  the  fire,  going 
solemnly  round  and  round  upon  a  primitive  jack,  was  a 
great  joint  of  beef,  and  beneath  it  was  a  batter  pudding, 
into  which  the  gravy  was  dripping,  making  a  rich  luscious 
covering  of  the  brown  batter.  Swinging  over  the  fire  in 
an  iron  pot  were  half  a  peck  of  potatoes  in  their  skins,  and 
in  a  smaller  saucepan  some  fresh-shelled  peas,  grown  in  the 
straggling  kitchen  garden  of  the  cottage. 

David  and  Squire  Barkstead  sat  near  the  low  bay  win- 
dow upon  an  old  cushioned  seat,  their  heads  now  and  then 
coming  in  contact  with  a  score  or  two  of  fuschia  and  gera- 
nium plants  that  filled  all  the  lower  panes  with  a  wealth  of 
blooms.  Elmira  followed  her  father,  and  by  the  time  Mrs. 
Dene  had  served  the  supper  she  returned  with  Zaccheus 
spruced  up  in  a  black  coat  with  pockets  at  the  side,  a  light- 
blue  waistcoat  and  white  stock,  and  in  ordinary  boots,  now 
looking  the  well-to-do  smack  owner  to  the  life. 

"  You'n  come  fortitnet,"  said  Mrs.  Dene,  addressing 
David  and  the  squire  ;  "  we'n  cooked  this  to  be  cawd  for 
remainder  the  week,  Mira  thowt  it  mought  be  hot  for  the 
Mester  and  Mester  Keith  like." 

"  I'm  always  fortunate,  Mrs.  Dene,  when  I  come  to  the 
cottage,"  said  Harry,  placing  a  chair  for  Elmira,  in  his 
ready  and  courtly  way,  at  least  Elmira  thought  it  was 


204  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

courtly,  and  she  knew  that  Harry  went  into  the  highest 
society  in  London  town. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  making  a  little  courtesy,  "  but 
I  am  going  to  draw  the  ale." 

"  No,  Miss  Mira,  I'll  do  it,  and  thank  ye,"  said  Charity  ; 
"  sit  ye  down,  please,  wi'  company." 

Elmira  accordingly  took  the  seat  which  Harry  had  placed 
for  her  by  his  side,  and  David  sat  with  Zaccheus  at  the  other 
end  of  the  table. 

Before  Charity  came  to  the  cottage — and  she  had  been 
housekeeper  and  general  there  for  over  five  years — the 
previous  domestic  had  sat  down  to  table  with  Zaccheus  and 
Elmira,  but  from  the  first  Mrs.  Dene  knew  her  place  and 
took  pride  in  doing  honor  to  her  service  as  she  said,  and 
loved  to  think  of  Elmira  as  her  young  mistress  who  was  just 
as  much  a  lady  as  the  finest  in  the  land,  "  if  larnin'  and 
accomplishments  counted."  On  this  occasion  Charity  was 
unusually  formal,  handing  round  the  plates  and  filling  up 
the  tumblers  with  quite  an  air  ;  and  Zaccheus  felt,  as  he 
told  Elmira  afterward,  as  if  he  was  "  hevin'  his  dinner  at  old 
Norfolk  Arms  on  market-day,  so  slick  and  nimble  did  she 
fisherate  for  all  ;  it  fairly  bet  him  for  sure." 

After  supper  Harry  led  the  conversation  into  melodious 
grooves,  talked  of  old  songs  and  the  concert  that  had  been 
given  at  Yarmouth.  Zaccheus  Webb  confessed  that  he 
gloried  in  the  old  ballads,  and  "  nothin'  culd  mek  time  go 
more  easy-like  and  free  than  a  good  song,  leastways  when 
you'd  gotten  a  spinnet  in  the  house  and  a  gel  as  could  play 
it  to  a  moral." 

Elmira  persisted  that  she  had  no  ear  for  music  and 
couldn't  play  the  spinnet  more  than  a  goose  ;  Mildred 
Hope,  she  said,  knew  that  well  enough,  for  Mildred  had 
been  trying  to  teach  her  this  twelve  months  and  could  make 
nothing  of  it. 

"Why,  Mildred  only  told  me  one  day  last  week  that  you 


"  BREAKERS  AHEAD  .'"  205 

were  getting  on  finely,"  said  David,  "  and  I  thought  you 
sung  that  song  about '  The  Waterman,'  a  week  since  this  very 
evening,  beautifully." 

"  Yes,  you  are  very  kind,"  said  Elmira,  "  I  know  you  did, 
but  you  would  say  that  if  I  didn't,  just  to  please  me." 

"  Well,  I  dunno  'bout  that,"  said  Zaccheus,  "  but,  my 
eyes,  I  reckon  you'd  be  hard  to  beat  at '  Cupid's  Carding,' 
and  I  says  that  a-knowin'  it  this  forty  year  and,  as  Justice 
Barkstead  ud  say,  that's  evidence." 

"  Won't  you  oblige  us,  Miss  Webb,"  said  Harry. 

"  Why,  you  see,  parlor's  locked  up,  hasn't  been  open  this 
three  days,  didn't  mean  to  open  it  till  Sunday,  when 
we  expect  the  Prison  Visitor  to  come  and  join  us  in 
a  hymn." 

"  Indeed.  I  wish  I  might  have  the  honor  of  being 
present,"  said  Harry. 

"  Don't  sneer,"  said  Elmira  quickly,  "  you  needn't,  for 
it's  lovely  to  hear  Mildred  Hope  sing,  and  if  you  could  hear 
her  tune  her  voice  to  a  song,  you  wouldn't  forget  it  in  a 
hurry  ;  '  Home,  Sweet  Home,'  for  example." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Webb,  I  did  not  intend  to  sneer  ;  I  am 
sure  I  beg  the  little  prison  visitor's  pardon." 

"And  on  her  behalf  I  accept  your  apology,"  said  David, 
laughing  ;  "  she  is  a  neighbor  of  mine,  you  know ;  Miss 
Mumford  is  a  friend  of  hers." 

"  She's  very  fond  of  you,"  said  Elmira,  with  her  rippling 
laugh. 

"  All  the  girls  are  fond  of  David,"  said  Harry. 

"  That's  a  good  un,"  remarked  Zaccheus,  as  he  filled  his 
pipe,  "  that's  a  good  un  for  you,  Master  Keith,  what  do  you 
say  to  that  ?" 

"I  feel  honored,  of  course,"  said  David,  slightly  embar- 
rassed ;  "it's  a  compliment  to  have  the  good  opinion  of  the 
girls." 

"  That's  true,"  said  the  smack  owner  ;  "  I  was  never  agen 


206  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

um  in  my  time,  and  I  knaws  one  as  is  worth  her  weight  in 
gold  ;  doan't  I,  Mira,  my  gel  ?" 

"  Yes,  father,  dear  ;  anyhow,  she  knows  that  you  are 
worth  your  weight  in  the  finest  gold  that  was  ever 
smelted." 

"Very  well,  then,  sing  us  'Cupid's  Carding'  and  play  it 
on  that  there  spinnet,  and  we'll  all  join  chorus,  eh,  Master 

Keith?" 

• 

"  Yes,"  said  David. 

"Shall  I  light  the  candles?"  asked  Mrs.  Dene,  who  had 
been  taking  in  the  conversation  as  she  had  taken  off  the 
cloth  and  removed  the  supper  things. 

"  Yes,"  said  Elmira  ;  and  presently  they  all  adjourned  to 
the  little  parlor,  all  except  Zaccheus,  who  said  he'd  sit  near 
by,  "  as  he  moughtn't  tek  pipe  in  thar,  not  as  he  wanted, 
leifer  he'd  sit  by  and  when  chorus  come  he'd  reckon  to  mek 
himsen  heard  ;  "  and  sure  enough  he  did. 

Elmira  sang  in  a  mirthful,  pleasant  fashion,  with  a  nice 
appreciation  of  the  words,  and,  for  so  brief  a  studentship, 
with  a  fair  aptitude  in  the  way  of  accompaniment.  There 
was  a  smell  of  old  lavender  and  country  fustiness  in  the 
room  that  seemed  to  go  well  with  the  music.  The  pictures 
on  the  walls  had  their  frames  bound  round  with  tissue 
paper.  There  were  lusters  on  the  mantel  shelf  that  jingled 
to  the  vibrations  of  the  spinnet.  Mrs.  Dene  and  Elmira's 
father  remained  just  outside  the  door,  Zaccheus  in  his  arm- 
chair which  Mrs.  Dene  had  wheeled  up  for  him,  Mrs.  Dene 
with  her  arms  beneath  her  apron,  and  her  mouth  open  with 
curiosity  and  pleasure. 

When  Elmira  had  sung  her  little  song  and  Zaccheus  and 
the  rest  had  joined  in  the  chorus  and  afterward  loudly 
applauded  the  performer,  Harry  Barkstead  sat  down  and 
astonished  the  company  with  a  dreamy  kind  of  waltz  that 
seemed  to  set  their  feet  a-going,  and  as  if  by  way  of  bedevil- 
ment,  then  gave  them  the  "  Manchester  Angel,"  with  all  the 


"BREAKERS  AHEAD!"  207 

pathos  of  which  the  refrain  is  capable,  and  somehow  Elmira 
felt  that  when  in  the  minor  key  he  dwelt  upon  the  words, 
"  There  lives  the  girl  for  me,"  he  had  her  in  his  mind  ; 
indeed,  he  looked  at  her  when  he  had  finished  ;  she  felt  as 
if  his  eyes  went  through  her. 

"  Is  that  a  challenge  to  Mildred  Hope  !"  David  asked, 
not  willing  that  the  impression  Harry  had  created  should 
remain  without  some  kind  of  protest. 

"  If  you  like,"  said  Harry,  laughing,  "  I  did  not  know 
that  the  prison  visitor  sang  it,  or  I  would  not  have  been  so 
bold." 

"  Tell  yer  it's  not  same  thing  as  prison  visitir  sings,  her'n 
is  '  Home  Sweet  Home,'  and  if  she'd  tuned  it  off  she'd  a 
med  a  hymn  on  it.  Eh,  Mira  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Elmira,  "  will  you  not  sing  another,  Mr. 
Barkstead  ?  and  you  play  so  well  I'm  quite  ashamed  that  I 
played  at  all." 

"  You  need  not  be,  Elmira,"  said  David  promptly. 

"  Truly,  no  indeed  ;  it  is  I  who  should  feel  ashamed," 
said  Harry,  "  but  somehow  when  songs  are  going  I  am  like 
Captain  Webb,  I  must  chime  in." 

"That's  reight,  squire,  that's  so,"  said  Zaccheus,  "now't 
like  a  good  song." 

The  squire  was  at  length  tempted  to  sing  one  more  song, 
and  Zaccheus  said  it  was  too  doleful  for  anything,  "  like  song 
old  cow  died  of,  lodging  on  cold  ground,  indeed  should 
think  that  was  place  for  such  like,"  and  the  old  fisherman 
laughed  heartily  as  he  pressed  a  glass  of  spirits  on  his 
guests,  spirits  as  had  never  known  derelict  hand  of  sizeman 
on  it,  and  yet  had  come  from  over  the  water.  The  young 
squire  undertook  to  join  the  old  man  in  a  glass  and 
Zaccheus  hoped  "as  Harry's  lodging  nor  hisn  for  that  matter 
ud  ever  be  on  that  there  cold  ground." 

David  hoped  before  he  parted  with  Elmira  on  this  event- 
ful night  to  have  had  a  word  or  two  with  her  father,  but  he 


2o8  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

found  no  opportunity  ;  instead  of  unburdening  his  mind 
and  explaining  his  plans  to  Zaccheus  he  made  a  confidant 
of  Harry.  He  could  hardly  help  himself. 

When  they  were  fairly  on  the  highroad  tramping  to  Yar- 
mouth, Harry  again  referred  to  David's  impulsive  reference 
to  his  happiness  as  well  as  his  health,  and  David  out  with 
it,  his  unexpected  fortune,  his  proposal  to  Elmira,  her 
acceptance  of  his  unworthy  hand,  and  his  vague  but  glorious 
schemes  of  a  future  that  might  lead  him  anywhere.  He 
intimated  that  he  might  take  a  long  spell  of  travel,  even 
have  a  yacht  of  his  own,  and  a  crew  with  a  long  gun  and  a 
masked  battery  in  case  of  need  ;  for  David  had  read  of 
pirates  ;  and  besides  peace  was  hardly  restored  between 
England  and  her  many  enemies,  and  who  knew  that  an 
adventurous  yacht  away  down  in  the  Mediterranean  or  in 
the  Pacific  might  not  be  signaled  by  some  daring  cruiser. 

If  David  talked  a  little  wildly  it  was  because  Harry 
encouraged  him,  and  for  the  reason  that  David  was  very 
happy,  pulsating  with  romance,  and  proud  as  if  he  had 
captured  a  lovely  princess  from  some  pirate's  lair.  Harry 
envied  the  lad  his  high  spirits,  his  hopeful  nature,  his  pur- 
pose in  life  ;  and  furthermore,  he  thought  he  had  never 
seen  Elmira  look  so  bewitching  as  on  that  night,  nor  could 
he  make  any  mistake,  he  thought,  about  the  significant 
pressure  of  the  hand  she  gave  him  in  response  to  his  own, 
after  David  had,  as  he  thought,  said  good-night  to  her  in 
a  particularly  ostentatious  manner,  even  kissing  her,  he 
believed,  while  Harry  turned  to  say  good-night  to  Zaccheus 
Hitherto  he  had  patronized  David — whose  acquaintance  he 
had  made  originally  through  Petherick  and  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction from  David's  London  trustee — but  to-night  David 
seemed  to  patronize  him. 

Moreover,  David  strode  along  the  highway  with  a  swing 
that  irritated  Harry,  who  was  not  in  that  kind  of  mood. 
The  sedgy  dikes  fairly  danced  past  them  as  they  pounded 


"BREAKERS  AHEAD!"  209 

along,  for  Harry  did  not  care  to  lag  though  he  felt  like  it. 
To  everybody  they  met  David  wished  a  cheery  good-night, 
and  was  self-assertive,  Harry  felt,  in  every  possible  way 
that  might  jar  upon  the  young  county  gentleman  with  his 
Oxford  education  and  his  stud  at  Melton,  the  more  so  that 
hitherto  David  had  seemed  to  accept  Harry's  friendship  as 
an  honor  as  well  as  a  pleasure.  This  was  true  enough,  for 
there  was  as  a  rule  a  modest  diffidence  in  David's  manner, 
and  he  was  really  fond  of  Harry,  admired  him  for  his 
knowledge  of  the  world,  his  athletic  powers,  and  his  fine 
natural  manners.  But  on  this  night  David  was  walking 
on  air.  He  had  won  the  girl  of  his  heart.  She  had  said 
yes  to  his  momentous  question,  and  he  expected  Harry 
Barkstead,  his  friend,  and  once  in  a  way  his  companion,  to 
rejoice  with  him,  to  clap  him  on  the  back,  as  it  were,  and 
shake  hands  with  him,  to  tell  him  he  was  to  be  envied,  and 
so  on  ;  and  it  was  only  when  they  steamed  into  town  hot, 
not  to  say  panting,  that  David  felt  somehow  that  Harry  did 
not  quite  feel  the  pleasure  he  affected,  when  at  last  he  said, 
"  Well,  old  chap,  I  must  congratulate  you,  and  wish  you  all 
the  happiness  you  can  desire." 

It  was  coldly  offered,  and  before  David  could  reply 
Harry  said,  "Come  into  the  Royal  and  join  me  in  a  stirrup- 
cup,  I  see  my  groom  waiting  for  me ;  it's  a  glorious  night 
for  a  ride.' 

"  No,  thank  you,  Harry,  not  to-night  ;  I  shall  be  waited 
for  also,  and  I  am  rather  la-te." 

"  Lats,"  said  Harry,  "  it  is  only  half-past  nine." 

"  That's  "late  for  Miss  Mumford,  and  I  want  to  have  a 
chat  with  her  before  she  goes  to  bed." 

"  Well,  good-night  then,"  said  Harry  ;  and  so  they 
parted,  each  thinking  of  Elmira  Webb  ;  David  not  for  a 
moment  suspecting  the  selfish  jealousy  that  had  taken  pos- 
session of  the  sensual  soul  of  Sir  Anthonv  Barkstead's 
unscrupulous  son. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MILDRED    HOPE. 

A  CORNER  house  on  the  South  Quay.  The  front  door  is  in 
a  short  street,  looking  upon  the  old  town  hall.  The  short 
street  leads  into  Middlegate.  Next  door  is  the  Royal  Oak 
where  sailors  come  to  drink  and  meet  skippers  on  the  look- 
out for  new  hands.  A  quaint  old  tavern  with  a  bit  of 
garden  in  front  and  red  blinds  to  its  small  square  panel 
windows.  The  old  house  (not  the  tavern)  extends  round 
the  corner  upon  the  quay.  To-day  it  is  fronted  by  a  rail- 
road, running  between  the  highway  and  the  ships.  In  the 
days  of  David  Keith  the  vessels  were  loaded  or  unloaded 
by  the  aid  of  carts  and  wagons.  To-day  there  are  steamers 
moored  to  the  quay,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  docked 
river  there  are  great  flour  warehouses  and  other  important 
buildings.  In  David's  boyhood  the  outlook  consisted  of 
sailing  ships,  coasters,  barges,  picturesque  sheds  in  the 
foreground,  and  in  the  distance  a  windmill  with  gray 
timbers  and  great  swinging  sails,  such  as  Don  Quixote 
tilted  at  in  the  famous  Spanish  romance.  Along  the  quay 
foreign  sailors  went  to  and  fro,  and  fishermen  with  clusters 
of  fish  on  a  string,  contributions  from  the  day's  catch  for 
the  "mawther's"  supper. 

The  old  house  was  Petherick's  office.  The  owner's  name 
was  set  forth  on  a  brass  plate  that  shone  like  the  sun.  The 
room  with  the  bay  window  overlooking  the  quay  was  the 
general  office,  in  which  David  Keith  had  a  desk  all  to  him- 
self. Frequently  he  had  the  room  all  to  himself,  to  read 
his  books,  other  than  legal  treatises,  or  to  sit  and  watch  the 
ships  as  they  came  and  went,  moored  to  the  quay  for  a 


MILDRED  HOPE.  2H 

time,  presently  to  disappear,  and  make  their  way  out  of  the 
river  at  Gorleston,  into  the  North  Sea,  whence  David  pic- 
tured them  in  all  weathers  on  their  varied  journeys. 

He  gave  them  many  and  strange  adventures ;  sent  them 
plowing  their  way  into  unknown  seas  ;  had  them  captured 
by  pirates,  and  their  crews  sold  into  slavery  ;  sent  them 
out  sometimes  with  masked  batteries  and  wonderful  sailing 
powers  to  meet  an  enemy,  who  had  counted  on  an  easy  cap- 
ture, to  be  himself  taken  as  a  prize.  He  sat  upon  his  tall 
desk,  pen  in  hand,  but  he  was  far  away  in  imagination  ; 
and  since  the  news  about  Newfoundland,  he  looked  further 
afield  and  with  more  certainty  of  latitude  and  longitude  ; 
for  he  had  consulted  the  office  atlas  and  found  both  Heart's 
Delight  and  St.  John's,  and,  furthermore,  he  had  talked  to 
sailormen  who  had  traded  to  those  seas  ;  knew  the  Atlantic, 
and  could  tell  grim  stories  of  Labrador  and  Demon's  Isle. 

Miss  Mumford  now  found  him  keen  on  every  point  that 
belonged  to  Newfoundland  and  his  father's  history,  and 
Mildred  Hope  would  look  in  upon  Sally  and  her  foster  lad, 
as  she  loved  to  call  him,  and  help  David  to  cross-examine 
Miss  Mumford  concerning  her  many  and  curious  experi- 
ences. Mildred  Hope  lived  in  two  rooms  in  Hartley's  Row 
close  by  Miss  Mumford's  house. 

Mildred,  though  but  a  few  years  older  than  David,  was 
well-known  in  Yarmouth.  Among  the  poor  she  was  as 
familiar  a  figure  as  the  bellman  or  Zaccheus  Webb,  the  smack 
owner.  Mildred  was  a  remarkable  young  woman.  She  was 
an  orphan,  and  known  in  the  town  as  "  the  prison  visitor." 
She  lived  on  an  annuity  of  fifty  pounds  a  year,  which  she 
augmented  by  working  embroidery  and  teaching  the  rudi- 
ments of  music.  She  was  of  a  distinctly  religious  turn  of 
mind,  but  belonged  to  no  sect  or  denomination  ;  she  wor- 
shiped in  every  church,  even  deigning  to  attend  Mass  occa- 
sionally at  the  little  Catholic  chapel. 

If  there  had  been  a  Friend's  Meeting  House  in  Yarmouth 


212  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

she  would  to  all  outward  appearance  have  looked  most  at 
home  there,  for  she  dressed  very  much  in  the  Quaker  fashion 
and  never  varied  it,  except  to  don  for  Sundays  and  feasts 
and  celebrations  a  superior  texture  of  gown  to  that  she 
wore  every  day,  once  in  a  way  appearing  in  silk.  She 
usually  wore  a  dove-colored  gray  dress,  and  a  small  straw 
bonnet  with  dove-colared  strings  tied  beneath  her  chin. 
She  was  under  the  average  height,  and  small  in  figure,  neat, 
dainty,  and  of  comely  presence.  Her  face  was  pale  ;  she 
had  large,  soft  gray  eyes,  soft  flaxen  hair  bound  close  to  her 
small  well-shaped  head,  wore  strong,  laced,  thick-soled 
shoes,  and  generally  carried  a  rather  capacious  reticule,  in 
which  there  were  tracts,  sewing  implements,  a  packet  of 
sweets  known  as  bull-eyes,  and  a  small  leathern  purse.  She 
was  born  at  Caister,  but  on  the  death  of  her  mother  had 
gone  to  live  in  Hartley's  Row,  where  she  rented  the  two  upper 
rooms  in  a  tradesman's  house,  and  became  the  attached 
neighbor  of  Miss  Mumford,  and  deeply  interested  in  the 
work  and  welfare  of  David  Keith. 

Mildred  Hope  was  seventeen  when  she  felt  the  philan- 
thropic impulse  which  absorbed  her  young  life  ;  she  was 
only  twenty-five  when  the  reader  makes  her  acquaintance  ; 
yet  she  had  done  much  to  reform  the  cruel  discipline  of  the 
local  prisons,  and  had  earned  for  herself  more  than  a  local 
celebrity. 

Miss  Mumford  never  tired  of  talking  with  Mildred,  and 
David  often  sat  and  listened  to  her,  but,  for  his  ambition, 
her  views  of  life  were  too  restricted  in  their  scope  and  pur- 
pose. She  had  found  her  mission,  as  many  another  priest- 
ess and  apostle  of  charity  had  before  and  since,  in  a  casual 
visit  to  a  church  with  open  doors  that  invited  her  to  enter 
in.  She  was  walking  from  Caister  to  Yarmouth  on  a  sum- 
mer day  in  her  eighteenth  year,  and  went  into  the  House  of 
God.  The  preacher  took  his  text  from  the  Corinthians,  and 
the  words  were,  "  We  persuade  men." 


MILDRED  HOPE.  213 

She  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  homily.  It  went 
straight  to  her  soul,  she  said,  in  one  of  her  talks  with  Miss 
Mumford  ;  she  felt  as  if  God  spoke  to  her  and  warned  her 
of  the  slavery  of  sin  in  which  she  had  hitherto  been  living  ; 
and  from  that  moment  she  began  to  feel  that  she  had  a  mis- 
sion, that  Christ  inspired  her  to  do  the  duty  that  was  nearest. 
She  began  to  visit  the  aged  and  the.  sick,  the  fatherless  and 
widows  ;  she  obtained  permission  to  go  into  the  workhouse 
and  read  to  the  poor.  On  Sundays  she  taught  in  Sunday 
schools. 

For  a  time  opposing  denominations  declined  her  services  ; 
but  she  did  so  much  good,  her  life  was  in  itself  such  a 
gracious  lesson  of  piety  and  benevolence,  that  she  found  her 
way  wherever  she  would. 

There  was  no  dogma  in  Mildred's  teaching.  She 
preached  Christ,  not  in  pulpits,  but  at  firesides,  in  gar- 
rets, in  pauper  wards,  and  at  last  in  the  miserable  and 
ill-kept  jail.  The  old  toll  house  prison  was  in  those 
days  one  of  the  worst  probably  of  the  houses  of  pun- 
ishment and  detention  that  any  prison  reformer  could 
have  visited.  It  had  no  chaplain,  no  schoolmaster. 
There  was  no  divine  service  of  any  kind  on  Sundays. 
The  only  relief  which  the  prisoners  had  from  their  mis- 
erable condition  lay  in  the  fact  that  they  herded  together, 
and  visitors  were  admitted  to  them  with  little  or  no  restric- 
tion. Possibly  this  was  one  of  the  worst  features,  how- 
ever, of  the  general  lack  of  discipline.  Without  it, 
however,  the  place  might  have  developed  into  a  lunatic 
asylum. 

The  Russians  of  to-day  know  what  solitary  confinement 
will  do  ;  and  in  their  banding  of  prisoners  together  they  still 
maintain  the  system,  or  want  of  it,  which  disgraced  our  own 
houses  of  detention  at  the  time  when  Mildred  Hope  took 
upon  herself  the  onerous  duties  of  prison  visitor  at  Yar- 
mouth. The  cells  were  below  ground,  dark  and  unventi- 


214  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

lated,  over-poweringly  hot  in  summer,  chilly  and  damp  in 
winter. 

Many  a  time  before  Mildred  had  summoned  up  courage 
enough  to  ask  for  admission,  she  had  longed  to  go  in  and 
read  to  such  prisoners  as  might  listen  to  her,  in  the  intervals 
of  their  gaming  and  drinking  and  cursing  and  swearing. 
At  last  she  was  admitted  to  see  a  poor  woman  who  was 
incarcerated  for  cruelty  to  a  child.  The  woman  had  given 
way  to  a  passionate  rather  than  cruel  nature,  and  received 
the  unexpected  ministrations  of  Mildred  with  bitter  but 
grateful  tears.  The  visitor  read  to  her,  as  she  informed 
Miss  Mumford,  "  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  St.  Luke,  the 
story  of  the  malefactor,  who  albeit  suffering  from  man's 
judgment,  and  that  justly,  found  mercy  from  the  Savior." 
Encouraged  by  this  first  visit  she  went  again  and  again, 
and  after  rebuffs  and  difficulties  of  many  kinds  she  became 
a  regular  visitor  at  the  prison,  and  obtained  a  wonderful 
influence  over  the  prisoners.  Something  like  an  improved 
discipline  grew  up  with  the  better  conduct  of  the  delin- 
quents ;  and  after  two  or  three  years  of  persistent  work 
Mildred,  perceiving  that  idleness  in  the  prison,  as  well  as 
out  of  it,  was  a  fruitful  source  of  vice,  devised  plans  of 
employment  for  both  men  and  women.  A  townsman  gave 
her  a  sovereign  toward  her  prison  charities,  and  with  this, 
and  a  contribution  from  her  own  scant  purse,  she  bought 
materials  for  work,  taught  the  women  to  sew,  helped  the 
men  in  the  same  direction,  and  in  time  took  in  materials  and 
brought  them  out  manufactured  articles,  which  she  sold  for 
the  benefit  of  the  prisoners,  many  of  whom  in  this  way  on 
being  discharged  found  themselves  in  possession  of  little 
sums  of  money  to  start  life  with,  and  what  was  more,  the 
means  of  earning  a  livelihood.  A  fund  was  founded  to 
help  the  little  prison  visitor,  but-  it  fell  far  short  of  her 
desires,  and  she  longed  to  enlarge  her  field  of  operations. 
She  often  parted  with  her  last  shilling,  and  pinched  herself 


MILDRED  HOPE.  215 

for  food  that  she  might  help  a  poorer  sister,  or  send  some 
comfort  to  some  sick  man  who  was  unable  to  help  him- 
self. 

The  tracts  which  Mildred  distributed  were  not  of  the 
usual  pattern.  She  wrote  them  herself.  A  kindly  disposed 
printer  gave  her  credit,  so  that  she  need  not  check  her 
work  for  the  immediate  want  of  funds.  They  were  very 
short  homilies,  friendly  words  of  advice,  contained  no 
threats  of  hell,  made  no  difficulties  in  the  way  of  repentance 
and  forgiveness. 

It  was  from  these  humble,  kindly,  generous  leaflets, 
gospels  of  good  conduct  and  honest  lives,  gospels  of  true 
hearts  and  cleanly  living,  gospels  of  rewards  not  only  in 
heaven,  but  on  earth— it  was  from  these  leaflets  that  she 
taught  many  of  her  ragged,  dissolute,  wretched  pupils  to 
read  ;  and  to  many  a  poor  creature  they  were  Notes  on  the 
Bank  of  Prosperity  and  Happiness,  these  simple  pages, 
issued  by  the  sympathetic  Yarmouth  printer. 

"  I  was  often  penniless,  fireless,  supperless,"  she  told  Miss 
Mumford,  "  but  I  knew  that  God  had  called  me  into  the 
Vineyard,  saying,  whatever  is  right  I  will  give  you.  I  felt 
that  God  was  my  master,  that  I  was  his  servant,  and  he 
would  not  forsake  me.  I  knew  also  that  it  sometimes  seems 
good  in  his  sight  to  try  the  faith  and  patience  of  his 
servants  by  bestowing  upon  them  very  limited  means  of 
support — as  in  the  case  of  Naomi  and  Ruth,  of  the  widow 
of  Zarephath  and  Elijah — and  my  mind  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  such  trials  seemed  exalted  by  more  than  human 
energy  ;  for  I  had  counted  the  cost  and  my  mind  was  made 
up.  If  while  imparting  truth  to  others,  and  helping  those 
who  groaned  in  poverty  and  sin,  I  became  exposed  to 
temporal  want,  the  privation,  so  momentary  to  an  individual, 
would  not  admit  of  comparison  with  following  the  Lord 
and  thus  administering  to  others.  Besides,  I  had  fifty 
pounds  a  year — think  of  it !  And  I  could  nearly  make 


216  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

another  by  embroidery  and  teaching.  I  was  rich,  I  had 
enough  for  food  and  clothes,  what  else  does  anyone  want  ? 
And  I  could  give  the  remainder  to  those  who  needed  it, 
women  in  distress  and  tribulation,  starving  children,  men 
dying  of  prison  pestilence  and  the  famine  that  comes  of 
drink  and  crime,  and  no  knowledge  of  the  Savior. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

DAVID    KEITH    AT    HOME    IN    HARTLEY'S    ROW. 

SINCE  she  had  come  to  live  in  Hartley's  Row,  Mildred's 
relaxation  was  in  her  neighborly  visits  to  Miss  Mumford's 
house  in  the  corner,  a  model  home,  clean  as  a  pink,  with 
relics  of  the  sea  and  a  little  library  of  books,  some  of  which 
Mildred  thought  a  trifle  worldly,  but  with  all  her  religious 
faith  and  conduct,  she  had  a  liberal  mind  and  found  relax- 
ation in  the  best  literature  of  the  time. 

She  often  went  home  to  her  own  two  little  rooms  with 
David's  bright,  cheerful  face  in  her  mind  and  his  adven- 
turous words  in  her  memory.  David  talked  to  her  with  a 
sense  of  confidence  and  without  restraint,  and  he  told  her 
many  stories  of  the  great  world  as  he  had  read  them  in  his 
miscellaneous  books  that  interested  her,  and  seemed  to  give 
her  rest.  She  would  often,  when  saying  good-night, 
remark  that  David  had  done  her  good,  rested  her  mind, 
giving  it  a  pleasant  change  in  taking  it  from  thoughts  of 
the  sorrowful  scenes  that  might  await  her  on  the  morrow. 

David  liked  Mildred  very  much.  There  was  something 
soothing,  he  would  say,  in  the  prison  visitor's  manner,  her 
voice  was  soft  and  sweet,  and  she  had  eyes  that  got  over 
a  fellow,  so  to  speak.  He  did  not  wonder  at  the  influence 
she  possessed  at  the  old  toll  house  and  among  the  poor, 
not  to  mention  the  fishermen,  who  actually  went  to  her  to 
say  a  prayer  for  them  before  putting  out  in  stormy  weather, 
or  when  the  signs  of  the  harvest  of  the  sea  were  dubious. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  David  one  day,  "  that  the  prison 
visitor  is  really  pretty  ?  " 

"  She's  comforting,"  was  Miss  Mumford's  reply. 


2l8  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  I  say  she's  pretty,  Sally,  dear.  I  saw  her  trudging 
away  on  the  road  from  Caister.  She  did  not  see  me.  I 
walked  behind  her  ever  so  far.  She  pounded  along.  Do 
you  know  she  has  big  heavy  shoes  ?  At  least  they  looked 
big  on  her  small  feet.  They  were  laced  up  like  mine,  and 
she  had  blue  worsted  stockings  ;  wears  her  petticoats  short 
you  know,  so  that  she  can  get  along.  She  stopped  in  the 
road  to  take  out  her  packet  of  bull's-eyes  and  give  some  to 
a  little  boy  and  his  sister  ;  and  just  then  I  came  up,  and 
said,  '  Please,  Miss  Mildred,  may  I  not  have  one  ? '  I  said 
it  in  an  assumed  voice,  you  know,  and  when  she  turned 
round  to  see  who  it  was,  why  she  fairly  blushed,  and  looked 
uncommonly  pretty." 

"  Really,"  said  Miss  Mumford. 

"  Yes,  really  !  You  know  how  pale  she  is  as  a  rule  ;  they 
say  that's  with  spending  so  much  time  in  the  bad  air  of 
the  toll  house  prison — I  wish  she  wouldn't.  Well,  I  tell 
you,  she  blushed  ;  her  cheeks  were  pink,  and  her  eyes  were 
bright  as " 

"  Elmira  Webb's  !  "  said  Miss  Mumford  a  trifle  slyly. 

"Oh,  well,  altogether  different,  you  know.  Of  course, 
Mira's  eyes  are  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.  Besides, 
the  prison  visitor's  are  gray,  and  Mira's  are  dark.  What 
made  you  say  that,  Sally  ?" 

David  broke  off  in  the  midst  of  his  account  of  meeting 
Mildred,  feeling  that  Sally  meant  something  more  than 
appeared  in  her  question. 

"Oh,  nothing  that  I  know  of,  David,"  said  his  foster- 
mother. 

"  I  believe  you  don't  like  Mira,"  he  said. 

"Not  as  well  as  Mildred,"  said  Sally. 

"Mildred  !  Why  that's  a  different  matter  altogether.  I 
like  Mildred,  of  course,  everybody  does;  but  altogether  in 
a  different  way  from  Mira  Webb." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Sally,  "  but  what  did  Mildred  say  ? " 


DA  VID  KEITH  A  T  HOME  IN  HARTLE  Y'S  ROW.       219 

"  Oh,  she  said  nothing  for  a  minute,  but  just  gave  me  a 
bull's-eye  and  blushed." 

"Are  you  sure  she  blushed?"  asked  Sally,  more  for  the 
sake  of  saying  something  than  with  any  special  intention 
in  her  question,  "  was  it  not  the  warmth  of  her  walk  ? " 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  Sally,  dear,  after  she  had 
blushed  and  I  thought  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  how 
pretty  she  was,  she  began  to  tell  me  about  Mira  ;  she  had 
been  giving  Mira  a  lesson  on  the  spinet,  and  she  said  Mira 
would  one  day  be  able  to  play  and  sing  quite  well,  though 
she  confessed  it  was  not  easy  to  get  nice  songs,  and,  of 
course,  that  Mira  did  not  care  much  for  hymns.  '  Why,  I 
should  think  not,'  I  said,  'not  for  general  use,  you  know. 
I  should  not  want  to  go  to  Webb's  to  hear  Mira  sing 
hymns.'  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Sally,  "  Mildred  Hope  sings  hymns 
till  she  makes  me  cry,  they  are  so  lovely." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  cry — why,  here  is  the  prison  vis- 
itor," he  sa'id,  as  Mildred  lifted  the  latch,  and  in  a  sweet, 
small  voice  asked  :  "  May  I  come  in  ? " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  David,  flinging  the  door  wide 
open. 

"  Oh,  Master  David,  it  is  you  ;  you  are  home  early." 

"  Yes,"  said  David,  "I  haven't  much  time  now  before  I 
sail,  and  I  want  to  spend  as  much  of  it  with  dear  Mother 
Sally  and  Mira,  as  I  can  possibly  afford." 

"  Of  course  you  do,"  said  Mildred,  as  she  patted  the 
back  of  Sally's  brown  hand,  which  was  extended  to  her  by 
way  of  welcome.  "  I  met  Miss  Webb  this  afternoon  ;  she 
was  shopping  for  Sunday,  she  said,  and  asked  me  to  accept 
a  pound  of  tea  for  some  of  my  poor  women." 

"  How  good  of  her,"  said  David,  "  but  she  has  a  kind 
heart.  Zaccheus  says  the  world  don't  contain  a  kinder, 
though  he  allowed  the  prison  visitor  was  a  good  little 
'mawther,  and  true  as  compass,  mek  no  doubt."  " 


220  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  Ah,  I  only  wish  I  was  worthy  of  all  the  kind  things 
people  are  good  enough  to  say  to  me,"  replied  Mildred, 
taking  a  seat  by  the  window,  undoing  her  reticule,  and 
taking  out  a  piece  of  unfinished  embroidery. 

"  Now,  my  dear  neighbor,"  said  Sally,  "  that's  just  a  bit 
like  what  they  calls  pride  as  apes  humility,  for  sure." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  Mildred,  "then  I  won't  say  it  again.  What 
I  mean,  Master  David,  is  that  I  would  like  to  do  a  thousand 
times  more  than  I  do,  to  have  more  strength,  more  ability, 
and  more  money  to  take  in,  oh,  such  a  field  of  duty  !  But 
one  must  be  content." 

"  You  are  quite  ambitious  in  your  way,"  said  David,  "  I 
am,  too  ;  we  all  are,  you  know." 

"  And  what  is  your  particular  ambition,  Master  David  ? " 
Mildred  asked. 

"  Just  at  this  moment  my  ambition  is  to  taste  the  fish 
Miss  Mumford  has  for  tea,  and  the  cakes  to  follow,"  said 
David,  laughing,  "  and,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  wash 
my  hands  and  change  my  jacket." 

"  You  will  stay  to  tea  ?  "  remarked  Sally,  interrogatively. 

"  Yes,  dear,  that  is  what  I  came  for,  besides  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you,"  said  Mildred,  smiling. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  lass,  that's  what  I  like  in  you — it  is  making 
yerself  at  home  and  saying  what  you  mean.  I'll  be  sore 
put  to  it  when  David's  gone,  but  it'll  be  a  comfort  to  have 
you  come  in." 

"  When  does  he  go  ?  "  Mildred  asked,  plying  her  needle 
as  Sally  went  in  and  out  from  parlor  to  kitchen,  assisting 
her  single  domestic  to  dish  up  the  dinner-tea  that  was  an 
institution  of  the  Row. 

"  Why,  at  the  end  of  the  month  ;  sails  from  Bristol  to  Hali- 
fax, where  he  is  to  meet  the  London  trustee,  who  sailed  this 
week,  and  who  will  go  with  him  to  St.  John's.  Eh,  dear, 
I  can't  tell  you  how  badly  I  feel  at  thought  of  parting  with 
him  ;  and  I  blame  myself  that  I  don't  go  with  him,  which, 


DA  VID  KEITH  A  T  HOME  IN  HAR TLE  Y' S  ROW.      221 

however,  he  won't  hear  of ;  says  it  would  make  him  look  silly, 
and  as  if  he  had  to  be  tied  to  my  apron  strings,  and  the 
like  ;  and  now  that  he's  engaged  to  Elmira  Webb,  and  talks 
of  marriage,  he  has  come  to  be  masterful ;  well,  of  course, 
that's  to  be  expected  of  a  high-spirited  lad  who's  growing 
into  manhood." 

"  He  will  make  Elmira  Webb  a  very  good  husband,  for- 
bearing and  affectionate,"  said  Mildred. 

"  That  he  will ;  but  she  isna  worthy  of  him — good  looks  ! 
Yes,  that  may  be,  but  too  fond  of  fall-alls,  and  calculated  to 
make  a  proud  lad  jealous." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  so,"  said  Sally,  "  but  what  are  you  to  do  when 
a  lad's  heart  is  engaged,  and  when  you  love  him  that  well 
you  don't  like  to  give  him  a  minute's  pain  ?  but  eh,  my  dear, 
it  will  be  a  sad  day,  I  fear  me,  for  David  Keith  when  he 
teks  Elmira  Webb  for  better  or  worse." 

It  was  a  cozy  room,  with  an  outlook  along  the  court- like 
yard  of  the  upper  end  of  Hartley's  Row,  the  door  opening 
flush  upon  the  white  pavements,  the  kitchen  having  a  red 
bricked  yard  at  the  back  ;  all  the  windows  full  of  flowers  in 
red-raddled  pots  ;  flags  and  rushes  in  the  parlor  fireplace  ; 
tall  brass  candlesticks  and  colored  ornaments  on  the  tall 
mantelshelf ;  an  old  flint  gun,  a  pair  of  pistols  and  a  pike 
fixed  upon  brackets  on  the  clean  and  whitewashed  wall  ; 
here  and  there  an  engraving  in  a  black  frame  ;  a  case  or 
two  of  stuffed  birds  ;  and  a  case  or  two  of  fish  ;  in  one 
corner  a  glazed  bookcase  ;  in  the  middle  of  the  room  a 
round  table  with  a  polished  top,  now  covered  with  gold 
and  white  china  cups  and  saucers,  and  white  plates  ;  a  tall 
copper  urn  uttering  a  kind  of  purring  sound,  and  emitting 
little  puffs  of  steam.  On  one  side  of  the  room  a  large  soft 
well-stuffed  sofa  ;  on  the  other  a  small  sideboard  flanked 
with  high-backed  old  oak  chairs. 

"  You  must  always  have  been  a  good  housekeeper,"  said 


222  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Mildred,  as  Sally  placed  upon  the  table  a  dish  of  deliciously 
fried  mackerel  flanked  with  bunches  of  fennel,  and  accom- 
panied by  a  sauce  that  seemed  to  address  an  invitation  to 
the  board. 

"  Ready,  David,"  said  Sally,  opening  the  staircase  door 
and  calling  to  David,  who  came  hurrying  down  in  a  loose 
serge  jacket  and  trousers,  with  a  white  handkerchief  tied 
in  a  sailor's  knot  about  his  neck,  and  looking  the  beau 
ideal  of  a  strong  and  happy  young  Englishman. 

"  Now,  Miss  Hope,"  he  said,  offering  her  a  chair  and 
taking  one  himself  opposite  to  Sally,  "  do  you  like  fennel 
sauce  ?  That's  right,  I  knew  there  would  be  fennel  sauce, 
I  smelt  it  the  moment  I  came  in.  What  a  fine  thing  it  is  to 
be  hungry,  eh  ?  " 

"  When  you  have  no  difficulty  in  getting  the  food  you 
want,"  said  Mildred,  taking  from  David  a  plate  of  fish,  while 
Sally  poured  out  the  tea. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  David,  "  it  makes  one  feel  selfish 
to  think  that  there  are  people  who  can't  get  bread  let  alone 
mackerel,  fennel  sauce,  and  hot  cakes  to  follow — and  such 
cakes  !  I  wish  everybody  could  have  all  they  want ;  but  as 
that  is  impossible  we  must  be  forgiven  for  taking  what  the 
Lord  provides  as  you  would  say,  Miss  Hope." 

David  was  in  great  spirits.  He  ate  his  food  with  a  relish, 
praised  it,  pressed  more  upon  Mildred,  complained  that 
Miss  Mumford  was  not  enjoying  her  tea,  and  when  the 
repast  was  over  announced  that  he  was  off  to  Caister  ;  he 
not  only  wanted  to  see  Mira,  but  he  looked  to  have  a  talk 
with  Zaccheus  about  the  Bristol  ship  in  which  he  was  to 
sail  to  Halifax  and  St.  John's. 

"  David  takes  after  both  his  father  and  his  mother,"  said 
Sally,  when  the  boy  had  started  off  on  his  walk  to  Caister, 
"but  he's  got  his  father's  hankering  after  adventure;  it 
was  that  as  induced  his  grandfather  Plympton  to  have  him 
educated  for  the  law,  thinking  as  it  would  keep  him  to  his 


DA  FID  KEITH  A  T  HOME  IN  HAR TLE  Y'S  RO  W.      223 

moorings  ;  but  he  forgot  as  the  sea  makes  it  natural  for  a 
lad  to  desire  to  roam.  It  was  marryin'  as  kept  his  father  at 
home  and  would  ha'  done,  but  for  the  persecution  that  Heart's 
Delight  was  subject  to,  and  which  didn't  stop  short  there 
but  followed  on  to  Heart's  Content  ;  eh,  it's  long  ago,  but 
it  seems  like  yesterday  !  David  was  an  infant  in  arms  ;  I 
hear  as  there's  great  changes  since,  that  settlers  may  till  the 
ground  and  build  of  brick,  as  some  has  done,  where  brick's 
to  be  gotten  ;  it's  a  pity  life's  so  short  a  span  ;  it's  hard  when 
folks  that's  borne  heat  and  sweat  of  it  has  to  mek  room  for 
them  as  comes  in  for  the  fruits  of  their  labor  and  suffering." 

Miss  Mumford  went  on  talking  to  herself  and  Mildred, 
while  she  and  the  servant  were  putting  the  tea-things  away 
and  making  the  room  tidy.  Mildred  sat  on  the  little  sofa, 
at  work  upon  her  embroidery,  but  she  gave  full  attention 
to  Sally's  thoughts  and  reminiscences. 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  fair  prospects  for  David,"  said  Sally, 
closing  the  kitchen  door  on  the  domestic,  folding  up  her 
apron,  and  placing  it  in  a  little  press  beneath  the  stairway, 
"  '  hansum  is  as  'ansum  does'  they  say  in  Lincolnshire, and 
I  wish  I  could  feel  a  real  bit  of  honest  faith  in  Miss  Elmira 
Webb." 

"  Her  father  loves  her  to  blindness  of  every  fault,"  said 
Mildred  ;  "  such  a  girl  without  the  guiding  love  of  a  mother 
is  at  a  great  disadvantage  in  a  sinful  world,  and  is  much  to 
be  pitied." 

"  It  isna  a  matter  of  religion  as  I'm  thinkin'  on,"  said 
Sally.  "  I've  knowed  good,  honest  folk  who  might  be  ca'd 
anything  but  religious  ;  why,  our  David  is  hard  to  get  to 
chapel  once  a  Sunday  ;  maybe  that's  on  account  of  his 
father  and  mother  being  Catholics,  though  his  father  was 
nothing  when  first  he  came  to  Heart's  Delight  ;  first  Mass 
he  went  to  was  for  her  sake  ;  I  do  believe  he'd  been  a 
Mahomedun  or  a  Hottentot  if  she'd  ha'  been  of  that  way  of 
thinkin',  he  loved  her  to  that  desperation." 


224  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL.      . 

"  I  don't  hold  with  an  outward  neglect  of  religion,  even 
if  there  is  a  natural  inward  and  spiritual  grace,"  said  Mildred, 
"I  think,  if  only  for  example's  sake,  the  Lord's  day  should 
be  observed  ;  not  that  souls  may  not  be  saved  that  never 
prayed  in  church  or  chapel  ;  whatever  our  creed,  we  are 
all  worshiping  God,  and  I  don't  think  he  will  take  par- 
ticular note  of  the  manner  of  the  worship-  if  our  conduct 
goes  hand  in  hand  with  our  religious  professions." 

"  There  be  some,"  Sally  replied,  "  who  count  to  be  saved 
by  faith  ;  but  I  believe  in  deeds,  Mildred,  and  I  am  sure 
you  do." 

"  Faith  and  deeds,"  Mildred  replied,  "  always  remember- 
ing the  rightful  and  diligent  use  of  the  talents  with  which 
the  Master  entrusts  his  servants." 

"  Do  you  ever  think  of  marrying  ? "  Sally  asked,  sud- 
denly arresting  Mildred's  needle  in  the  very  heart  of  a 
silken  rose. 

"  It  is  a  strange  question,"  Mildred  replied,  with  the 
slightest  tinge  of  color  in  her  pale  cheeks  ;  and  so  it  was, 
having  regard  to  the  nun-like  appearance  of  the  girl.  It 
has  been  already  noted  that  she  dressed  in  a  very  simple 
fashion,  suggesting  the  Quaker  garb  ;  it  was  also  convent- 
like  in  its  simplicity.  There  was  that  calm  resignation  in 
the  expression  of  the  girl's  face  that  is  mostly  seen  in  the 
countenance  of  devout  sisters  who  have  given  their  lives  to 
Holy  Church,  and  yet  it  was  an  inviting  calmness,  not  in 
the  least  austere.  The  deep,  dark  eyes  were  full  of  a  sym- 
pathetic light,  the  well-formed  mouth  generous  in  its  out- 
line, the  lips  red,  and  the  most  fashionable  beauty  might 
have  envied  Mildred's  white  and  regular  teeth.  Her  voice 
was  sweet  and  musical,  and  for  poor  people  had  a  kind  of 
fascination  that  belongs  to  a  well-played  reed  instrument. 
When  she  prayed,  as  she  did  now  and  then  at  some  public 
assembly,  such  as  the  occasional  congregation  of  sailors  on 
a  Sunday  evening,  on  the  beach  before  the  fishing,  her  soul 


DA  VID  KEITH  A  T  HOME  IN  HARTLE  Y'S  ROW.      22$ 

was  in  her  words.  Her  supplications  rose  and  fell  with  the 
cadence  of  a  lovely  chant ;  yet  in  her  relationship  with  the 
people  and  with  her  friends  she  had,  as  we  have  seen,  none 
of  the  sanctity  of  manner  or  conversation  that  carried  even 
an  unconscious  rebuke  to  the  most  sinful.  She  was  on 
frank  and  familiar  terms  with  all  the  coast,  and  the  respect 
she  received  on  all  hands  was  not  in  any  way  lessened  by 
her  free  and  happy  manner. 

Sally  Mumford  was  in  a  peculiar  mood.  Her  remarks 
made  Mildred  watchful  and  somewhat  on  her  guard. 

"  I  never  married  because  I  had  a  mission.  I  was  mar- 
ried to  my  duty.  David  was  my  mission,  God  bless  him  as 
he  blessed  his  saintly  mother.  But  why  shouldn't  you 
marry,  Mildred  ?  " 

"  I  am  also  married  to  my  duty,"  said  Mildred,  looking 
up  at  Miss  Mumford  with  a  questioning,  wistful  expression 
in  her  eyes. 

"  But  marriage  need  not  hinder  your  work.  Oh,  to  see 
you  and  David  come  together  !  " 

Mildred  felt  her  heart  almost  stop  beating  as  she  bent 
her  head  over  her  embroidery,  not  daring  to  look  up. 

"  David  is  fond  of  you  ;  he'll  get  tired  of  yonder  Caister 
gel  !  " 

"Why  are  you  saying  these  things?"  Mildred  asked,  her 
lips  slightly  parted  as  she  looked  into  Sally's  calm  face. 

"  Because  my  heart  prompts  me,"  said  Sally. 

"  I  wonder  why  your  heart  dictates  such  thoughts  ?  " 

"  Because  it  loves  you,  Mildred,  and  because  it  beats 
night  and  day  for  David  Keith,  its  one  hope  and  love.  Eh, 
dear,  I  don't  know  what's  come  over  me  this  night — seems 
as  if  I  feared  some  harm's  going  to  happen  David,  and 
seems  as  if  you  could  save  him  !  " 

"  Let  us  pray  for  him,  Sally  dear,  and  ask  God  and  the 
Savior  for  guidance,"  replied  Mildred,  as  she  rose  and 
put  her  arms  around  the  trim  old  spinster. 


226  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

They  knelt  together  by  the  chair  in  which  Sally  had  been 
sitting,  knelt  hand  in  hand,  and  each  offered  up  a  silent 
/  prayer  which  was  more  the  outcome  of  a  sudden  emotion 
than  an  act  of  worship  or  petition.  Their  hearts  were  full 
to  overflowing  with  a  tender  solicitude  that  naturally  found 
vent  in  prayer.  The  impulse  and  the  motive  were  inspired 
by  thoughts  of  David  Keith's  imminent  voyage  across  the 
Atlantic. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"  THE    MAD    ENGLISHMAN    OF    VENICE." 

Two  ruins.  The  first  almost  human  in  its  time-worn 
aspect,  its  blind  windows,  its  broken  columns.  The  second 
entirely  human,  the  living  wreck  of  a  man.  The  first 
a  decayed  palace  with  a  brave  and  brilliant  history.  The 
second  a  man,  battered  by  cruel  blows  of  fate,  aged  before 
his  time,  but  with  the  windows  of  his  soul  still  undimmed, 
except  for  here  and  there  a  film  that  had  come  from  the 
shedding  of  many  tears. 

The  marble  ruin  was  not  entirely  desolate.  It  had  a  cus- 
todian, one  who  had  known  it  when  its  echoes  resounded  to 
the  laugh  and  shout  of  triumph  and  festival.  The  human 
ruin  was  alone,  solitary  in  the  great  world.  In  its  pinched 
and  wounded  heart  lay  the  everlasting  difference  between 
the  dead  ruin  and  the  living  ;  it  was  the  well-spring  of  hope 
that  keeps  green  some  sunny  spot  in  the  dreariest  past  and 
freshens  the  most  arid  forecasts  of  the  future. 

At  the  date  of  this  romance,  Yriarte,  the  historian,  will 
tell  you  that  visitors  to  Venice  must  have  remarked  in  pass- 
ing down  the  Grand  Canal  an  ancient  building  with  itsppen 
loggia  on  the  first  story,  ornamented  with  marble  columns, 
having  Byzantine  capitals.  The  antique  facade,  set  with 
slabs  of  Greek  marble  and  encrusted  with  circular  escut- 
cheons, was  falling  into  ruin,  its  interstices  choked  with 
earth  and  moss.  Here  and  there  trailing  vines  and  varied 
creepers  had  taken  root  in  floor,  and  crevice,  giving  that 
touch  of  leaf  and  flower  that  always  arrests  the  attention 
wherever  it  is  observed  among  the  halls  and  palaces  of  this 
city  in  the  sea.  The  Turkish  custodian  still  lived  there  and 


228  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

might  be  seen  leaning  against  the  last  arch  of  the  loggia, 
a  type  of  Eastern  immobility,  indifferent  to  the  gondolas 
passing  and  repassing  under  his  eyes,  looking,  but  seeing 
nothing.  "  A  poet  who  did  not  know  that  placidity  of  the 
Oriental,  which  looks  like  dreaming  and  yet  is  so  dreamless, 
might  have  imagined  that  he  read  a  look  of  wistfulness  in 
this  man's  eyes,  and  that  the  forlorn  warder  was  thinking  of 
the  ancient  glories  of  Venice." 

In  these  present  days,  if  you  would  see  with  the  eyes  of  the 
historian  and  follow  the  adventures  of  the  hero  of  Heart's 
Delight,  you  must  look  back  through  the  spick  and  span 
facings  of  the  palace  that  have  blotted  out  the  resting  place 
of  the  prisoner  of  Tafilet.  There  are  Venetians  still  living 
who  knew  the  old  palace  and  its  picturesque  custodian. 
The  stones  are  fresh  that  have  been  piled  on  the  ancient 
foundations,  and  the  present  writer  has  moored  his  gondola 
by  the  steps  on  the  Grand  Canal,  and  talked  with  an  old 
Venetian  who  had  known  the  stranger  whom  they  called 
"the  mad  Englishman." 

This  building  was  the  old  Fondaco  dei  Turchi,  prede- 
cessor of  the  new  palace,  built  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
The  present  building  is  supposed  to  be  a  reproduction  of 
the  blind  old  house  which  had  for  its  custodian  the  dreamy 
Oriental.  Three  hundred  years  after  the  splendid  enter- 
tainments that  the  lords  of  Briare  gave  there,  the  palace 
became  the  residence  of  the  Turkish  merchants  and  dealers, 
and  it  was  in  its  last  days  of  decreptitude  and  picturesque 
misery  when  Alan  Keith  begged  for  shelter  at  the  hands  of 
the  meditative  Turk. 

They  were  well  met  these  three — the  blinking  Oriental  in 
the  shadow  of  the  crumbling  palace  and  the  half-demented 
seafarer  who  had  been  landed  by  a  Spanish  ship  to  take  his 
chances  of  life  and  death  in  Venice.  There  was  something 
almost  inarticulate  in  the  woes  of  the  three.  The  palace 
spoke  to  the  human  fancy  in  whispers  of  parasite  leaves 


"  THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF   VENICE."         229 

that  held  many  of  the  marble  stones  together.  The  cus- 
todian addressed  the  Englishman,  but  to  Alan  it  was  in  the 
embarrassing  tongue  of  France.  Alan  replied  in  a  gutteral 
English  that  was  full  of  recollections  of  the  Scottish  ver- 
nacular, with  now  and  then  a  smattering  of  French  words 
and  Spanish,  such  French,  however,  as  might  have  been 
English  to  the  Turk,  who  could  only  guess  at  the  stranger's 
meaning.  There  was,  however,  between  the  two  human 
ruins  a  sympathetic  language  which  they  could  not  mistake. 
They  both  belonged  to  the  miserable.  They  had  both  seen 
strange  adventures  ;  they  were  both  old  ;  they  were  both 
poor.  Poverty  knows  its  fellow.  The  custodian  of  the 
decaying  palace  clung  to  the  old  walls  for  love,  and  not  for 
wages.  Alan  had  about  him  the  few  gold  and  silver  coins 
that  some  philanthropic  Spaniard  had  given  him  when 
obtaining  his  release  from  the  Moorish  dungeon.  Else- 
where he  had  treasure  in  abundance,  away  on  the  silent 
shores  of  the  secret  waterways  of  Wilderness  Creek ; 
always  supposing  that  the  cemetery  had  remained  undis- 
turbed except  by  wind  and  weather. 

During  all  the  days  of  his  imprisonment  Alan  had  never 
forgotten  any  circumstance  connected  with  his  life  at  Heart's 
Delight.  Dropped  down  off  Labrador  blindfolded  he  felt 
that  he  could  steer  into  the  silent  harbor  whence  the  cun- 
ning vengeance  of  Lester  Bentz  had  driven  him  and  his 
comrades  to  fall  victims  to  the  English  ship  of  war.  When 
some  unknown  power  had  come  to  the  aid  of  the  prisoners 
at  Tafilet  he  had  selected  to  be  put  ashore  at  Venice,  feel- 
ing that  of  all  cities  in  the  world  he  might  there  possibly 
still  have  a  friend.  He  remembered  the  young  priest's  talk 
of  Venice  as  his  home,  of  the  probability  of  his  removal 
thither,  and  that  he  had  a  mother  living  in  Florence. 

More  than  twenty  years  had  gone  by  since  then,  and 
Father  Lavello  might  be  dead.  He  might,  however,  have 
left  behind  him  some  friend  upon  whom  he  could  count  for 


230  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

advice  and  help.  Twenty  years  was  long  in  the  memory  of 
friendship,  but  short  in  the  memory  of  a  foe  ;  and  Alan 
knew  not  to  what  extent  his  name  might  be  branded  with 
the  penalties  of  treason  and  crime,  with  piracy  and  murder, 
in  the  annals  of  British  justice.  Could  he  have  known  that 
he  was  dead  in  the  official  report  of  the  admiral  o'f  the  St. 
George — dead  with  all  his  comrades,  d.ead  and  buried  with 
his  pirate  ship  beneath  the  deep  and  stormy  waves  that 
roll  around  Bahamas  coral  reefs — he  might  have  selected 
to  be  put  on  board  an  English  ship  ;  but  he  was  wary,  and 
his  mind  turned  to  Venice  and  Father  Lavello.  He  had 
for  the  time  being  taken  upon  himself  a  new  name  by  way 
of  wise  precaution,  resolving  to  feel  his  way  to  the  abiding 
place  of  Father  Lavello,  and  know  something  of  his  record, 
and  the  character  he  bore  with  his  people  before  entrusting 
to  him  the  secret  of  his  existence  and  his  desires.  His 
long  imprisonment  had  made  him  secretive  and  mistrustful  ; 
dulled  his  perceptive  qualities  ;  given  his  eye  a  trick  of 
wandering,  and  to  his  speech  a  certain  hesitancy  that  to  the 
common  mind  marked  him  down  as  imbecile.  And  so  once 
more  he  was  dubbed  the"  mad  Englishmen,"  and  later  he 
was  assigned  not  only  a  name  but  a  local  habitation  ; 
he  was  called  "  The  Mad  Englishman  of  Venice." 

But  Alan  was  far  from  mad.  Dreamy  ?  Yes,  far  more 
so  than  the  dreamy-looking  custodian  of  the  time-worn 
palace  ;  dreamy,  with  lucid  intervals  of  energy  and  passion  ; 
dreamy,  with  poetic  memories  of  -a  saintly  wife  and  child  ; 
dreamy,  with  sounds  of  the  sea  in  his  ears  and  mirthful 
voices  ;  dreamy,  with  the  light  of  the  crackling  fire  of  a 
winter's  hearth  in  his  memory,  and  pictures  of  domestic 
peace,  of  neighbors  sitting  in  the  wintry  glow  of  peat  and 
wood.  He  was  a  dreamer  gazing  back  on  sunny  seas  and 
happy  fisherfolk  ;  a  dreamer  who  falls  from  paradise  to 
hell,  from  happiness  and  peace  and  domestic  love  and 
home  to  tyranny  and  wrong  ;  to  battle,  murder,  and  tern- 


"  THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF    VENICE."         231 

pestuous  fights  at  sea  ;  from  lying  by  the  side  of  a  wife 
beloved  beyond  all  women  to  lying  prone  by  her  grave, 
victims  both  of  them  of  a  lawless  law  and  a  lawless  magis- 
tracy. Yes,  he  was  a  dreamer  indeed,  this  wanderer  who 
paused  as  if  from  sheer  sympathy  by  the  rough  steps  of 
the  decaying  palace  with  its  long-robed  and  be-fezzed 
custodian. 

Surely  the  ruined  house  was  the  place  where  such  a  bony, 
withered,  hawk-eyed  mariner  as  Alan  Keith  shbuld  rest ; 
this  silent  Turk  was  the  sentinel  of  the  silent  palaces  and 
mysterious  boats  who  should  make  him  welcome.  And  so 
he  addressed  himself  to  the  Turk,  and  the  Turk  came  out 
of  his  reverie  to  look  with  pitying  eyes  upon  the  stranger. 
Such  a  presentation  of  picturesque  age  were  these  three, 
that  one's  mind  rests  upon  it  with  awe  and  wonder.  The 
two  strange  men  ;  the  one  dead  palace. 

It  was  an  instinctive  act  of  hospitality  that  led  the  Turk  to 
take  the  wanderer  in.  An  humble  boatman  had  rowed  him 
from  the  quay  in  his  sandola,  and  here  had  left  him  with  the 
Turk,  who,  opposite  in  creed,  in  thought,  in  every  way,  still 
found  reason  for  comradeship  with  his  grim  petitioner. 
They  were  both  alone,  one  with  his  memories,  the  other  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land.  The  custodian,  however,  had 
acquaintances.  He  had  lived  long  enough  in  Venice  to 
adopt  some  of  her  habits  and  to  be  on  speaking  terms  with 
certain  frequenters  of  a  caff  in  a  shady  corner  of  the  steps 
that  led  upward  over  the  Rialto  bridge.  Here  he  would 
once  or  twice  a  week  take  his  cup  of  coffee,  and  smoke  his 
chibouk  and  listen  to  the  conversation  of  other  guests  while 
they  sipped  their  diluted  anisette,  or  drank  their  black  coffee, 
denouncing  with  bated  breath  or  blatent  defiance,  as  the 
case  might  be,  their  Austrian  masters.  The  blond  mistress 
of  the  landlord,  with  her  lightly  shod  feet,  showing  shapely 
ankles  in  white  stockings,  would  pay  special  attention  to  the 
silent  Turk,  and  the  Venetians  would  often  talk  at  him  of  the 


232  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

time  when  Venice  was  great  and  free,  and  the  Fonda  dei 
Grechi  was  one  of  the  glories  of  the  Grand  Canal.  Other- 
wise the  custodian  had  neither  kith  nor  kin  nor  friends  in 
Venice.  He  had  permitted,  however,  the  friendly  encroach- 
ment of  a  certain  humble  gondolier  and  his  wife  to  find  a 
lodging  in  a  wing  of  the  palace  overlooking  a  back  canal,  in 
return  for  which  they  gave  him  such  domestic  services  as  he 
required,  did  his  marketing,  cooked  his  food,  and  in  winter 
made  desperate,  if  unavailing,  efforts  to  keep  his  salon 
warm.  Atilio  was  the  gondolier  and  Teresa  was  his  wife, 
and  they  could  both  speak  a  little  English,  which  they  had 
picked  up  in  the  service  of  a  great  merchant,  who  had 
traded  round  the  world,  and  had  once  taken  them  to  the 
great  port  of  London.  But  Atilio  had  never  heard  such 
strange  English  as  the  grim  stranger  spoke,  and  Teresa  had 
never  seen  so  evidently  mad  a  lodger  as  he  whom  his  excel- 
lency, the  signori,  had  thought  well  to  shelter  and  protect. 
In  such  a  multifarious  community  as  that  of  Venice  in 
those  days,  with  its  strange  sails  from  Eastern  ports  and 
AVest,  with  its  curious  fisherfolk  from  the  islands  of  the 
lagoons  ;  its  mysterious  Jews  of  the  ghetto  in  their  pictur- 
esque gaberdines  ;  its  Austrian  officials  and  sentinels,  and 
its  grave  old  citizens,  it  might  have  been  thought  that  Alan 
Keith  would  have  escaped  notice  ;  but  he  seemed  to 
impress  mysteriously  the  most  ordinary  person ;  his  gaunt 
figure  towering  above  the  crowd,  the  long,  patched,  and 
foreign  coat  he  wore  reaching  from  his  neck  to  his  buckled 
shoes,  and  decorated  in  some  queer  barbaric  fashion  ;  his 
long  legs  in  faded  velvet  trunks  and  silken  hose  ;  his  bony 
hands  and  pallid  face,  his  sunken  eyes  that  shone  like 
meteors  from  beneath  his  shaggy  eyebrows  :  his  long,  thin 
gray  hair,  and  his  restless  manner  ;  they  knew  not  what  to 
make  of  him,  the  simple  gondolier  and  his  wife,  and  the 
keeper  of  the  caft,  whither  the  silent  Turk  had  taken  him, 
was  as  much  at  a  loss  ;  and  in  a  very  short  time  he  came  to 


"  THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF    VENICE."         233 

be  spoken  of  as  "the  mad  Englishman."  Once  unwittingly 
he  had  offended  a  number  of  men  and  boys  on  the  quay  by 
some  remark  which  he  thought  was  a  complimentary 
expression  in  choice  Italian,  and  which  was  nothing  like  it. 
They  made  for  him  to  testify  their  anger  in  blows,  but  the 
gaunt  stranger  scattered  them  like  leaves  before  a  mighty 
wind.  Mischief  would  have  been  done  had  not  an  En- 
glish captain,  whose  ship  was  lying  in  port  awaiting  her 
sailing  papers,  interposed  and  explained  what  Alan  Keith 
had  intended  to  say,  whereupon  the  crowd  burst  forth  into 
laughter,  and  insisted  on  shaking  hands  with  the  poor  mad 
fellow  ;  for  now  they  knew  he  must  be  mad  to  call  them 
villains  and  beasts  of  burden  when  he  meant  to  do  them 
honor. 

And  so  Alan  wandered  about  the  city,  which  was  to  him 
a  dream  within  a  dream,  and  he  a  ghost  from  some  other 
world.  He  was  happy,  quite  happy,  for  a  long,  long  time, 
free  to  come  and  go,  with  shelter  for  his  head  and  food  for 
his  stomach.  No  jailer  held  him  by  the  heels.  Once  in 
a  way,  the  Austrian  challenge  of  "  Halt !  Wer  da  ?"  broke 
in  upon  his  dreams,  but  the  sentinel  would  smile  good 
naturedly  as  the  mad  Englishman  retired  with  a  bow  of 
submission  and  a  "  Pardon,  messieur,"  spoken  with  a  broad 
Scotch  accent.  Alan,  indeed,  began  to  think  he  had  been 
translated  to  Paradise,  and  for  a  time  what  he  considered 
to  be  the  ambition  of  his  latter  days,  faded  out  in  the  free 
air  of  Italy  ;  for  it  was  free  to  him,  the  very  essence  of  the 
supremest  liberty,  whatever  it  might  be  to  the  Italians, 
whose  aspirations  he  did  not  understand.  He  found  that 
the  few  gold  and  silver  pieces  which  his  Spanish  deliverer 
had  deposited  with  the  suit  of  clothes  with  which  he  had 
been  endowed,  and  the  bundle  of  curious  linen  that  had 
been  placed  for  him  on  board  the  ship,  went  a  long  way  in 
the  estimation  of  the  unspeakable  Turk,  and  that  an  odd 
coin  now  and  then  made  Atilio  and  Teresa  both  willing 


234  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

servants,  however  mad  he  might  seem  to  them — a  madness 
that  was  not  vicious,  be  it  said,  but  a  madness  that  was 
unmistakable — especially  when,  as  had  happened  more 
than  once,  Alan  had  tossed  one  of  his  strange  coins  upon 
the  caf£  counter  to  treat  some  lasgnone  to  a  cup  of  wine,  or 
.had  himself  indulged  in  an  extra  glass  of  brandy  with  his 
coffee ;  for  then  his  eyes  would  fairly  blaze,  and  he  would 
talk  of  fights  on  sea  and  land,  of  stormy  waters  and  the 
haunted  lands  of  distant  shores  ;  but  even  then,  he  spoke 
with  a  kind  of  reserve  that  emphasized  his  madness. 

There  was  neither  latitude  nor  longitude  in  his  incon- 
sequential yarns  ;  but  once  in  a  cafe  down  by  the  quay,  he 
had  been  led  into  making  overtures  to  an  English  captain 
concerning  a  buried  treasure.  He  had  discovered  a  sudden 
energy  during  a  talk  between  the  captain  and  his  mate. 
They  had  heard  of  a  sunken  Spanish  galleon  that  of  late 
had  shifted,  and  now  showed  her  masts,  and  into  whose 
hold  a  Frenchman  had  dived  and  found  it  full  of  gold. 
Thereupon  Alan's  dream  of  peace  and  happy  days  of  free- 
dom in  an  earthly  paradise  had  gone  back  to  reality,  and  he 
felt  how  poor  he  was,  yet  how  rich,  that  he  might  still  have 
a  son  alive  to  whom  he  owed  a  fatherly  duty,  and  to  whom 
for  the  sweet  sake  of  an  angel  mother  in  Heaven,  he  felt  a 
yearning  affection. 

"  I  ken  of  a  treasure,"  he  said,  looking  up  from  the  seat 
where  he  had  been  huddled  smoking  a  wooden  pipe  with  a 
long  reed  stern,  "  and  eh,  man,  if  I'd  a  ship,  and  ane  or  twa 
good  han's,  I'd  mak  the  fortune  of  him  who'd  provide  them  ; 
a  nod's  just  as  gude  as  a  wenk  to  a  blind  horse." 

The  sailors  looked  with  undisguised  surprise  at  the 
foreign  looking  withered  old  man  who  without  invitation 
joined  in  their  conversation,  and  made  a  wild  declaration 
of  secret  wealth,  not  in  French  or  German,  not  in  Italian, 
or  Moorish,  or  Hebrew,  but  in  English,  with  a  Scotch 
accent,  and  at  Venice. 


"  THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF   VENICE."         235 

"  Where  d'ye  hail  from,  master  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"  Ah,  ah,"  laughed  Alan,  "  that's  a  vera  easy  question." 

"  I  should  say  so,"  remarked  the  mate,  pouring  out  a 
fresh  glass  of  Chianti  for  his  chief. 

"  Ef  I  could  jest  mak  a  contract  wi'  ye  givin'  me  com- 
mand o'  yer  shep,"  said  Alan,  "  within  sixty  days  ye'd  hae 
no  further  cause  to  sail  the  seas." 

"Very  likely  not,"  said  the  captain  good-naturedly,  "and 
no  ship  to  sail  in  maybe  ;  join  us,  friend,  in  a  glass  of  wine 
for  the  sake  of  bonnie  Scotland  ;  that's  where  ye  hail  from, 
I'm  thinking." 

"May  be,"  said  Alan,  "  we  knaw  where  we  hail  frae,  but 
where  are  we  gaein'  ?  That's  the  puzzle,  eh  ? " 

Alan  felt  that  he  was  being  questioned  ;  and  he  was  still 
wary  about  committing  himself  ;  for  he  had  yet  to  learn  on 
what  legal  grounds  he  stood.  He  had  reason  to  expect 
Father  Lavello  in  Venice.  Idly  as  he  had  spent  his  time, 
dreaming  in  the  sun,  reveling  in  his  freedom,  he  had  never- 
theless busied  himself  jn  inquiries  about  Father  Lavello  ; 
and  the  gondolier  had  at  last  made  out  what  he  wanted.  In 
the  first  place  Alan's  method  of  pronouncing  the  Italian 
name  had  been  a  barrier  to  inquiry,  and  in  the  next  place, 
Father  Lavello  had  left  Venice  for  Verona  ;  and  Atillio  had 
succeeded  in  having  conveyed  thither  a  letter  from  Alan,  to 
which  an  answer  had  been  received  by  word  of  mouth, 
implying  that  Alan  would  very  soon  see  the  priest  whom  he 
sought.  This  progress  had  only  been  achieved  within  a  few 
days  of  the  incident  on  the  quay  ;  and  Alan  felt  that  he 
might  be  very  near -the  discovery  of  things  of  the  last 
importance  to  him,  and  he  became  all  the  more  circumspect. 
At  the  same  time,  he  had  of  late  brooded  over  a  possible 
means  of  visiting  Newfoundland,  more  particularly  the 
scene  of  his  buried  fortunes,  and  the  deep  interest  which  the 
two  English  officers  were  expressing  in  the  sunken  treasures 
of  a  Spanish  ship,  unloosed  his  tongue  ;  but  to  no  further 


236  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

purpose  then  to  convince  the  strangers  that  he  was  a  softy, 
a  dreamer  of  dreams,  a  harmless  lunatic. 

Nevertheless  Alan  surprised  them  with  his  knowledge  of 
navigation  ;  and  in  a  little  while  they  were  both  talking  to 
him  with  a  rational  consideration  of  certain  propositions 
that  he  discovered  to  them.  He  sat  at  their  table  with 
a  certain  distinction  of  manner  that  gradually  made  them 
even  deferential.  He  allowed  them  to  understand  that  he 
knew  they  thought  him  half-witted  ;  but  he  made  them  feel 
that  there  was  method  in  his  madness.  He  spoke  of  long 
years  of  imprisonment,  of  shipwreck  and  slavery,  of  a  thou- 
sand reasons  why  he  might  well  be  mad  ;  and  he  also  spoke 
of  human  beings  who  had  prayed  to  die  and  could  not,  men 
who  came  out  of  every  danger  unscathed,  who  bore  torture, 
misery,  the  suffocating  embrace  of  the  sea,  the  anger  of 
breakers  on  rocky  coasts,  and  who  lived  on  and  on  !  He 
held  them  with  his  natural  eloquence  ;  and  he  drank  their 
wine  with  every  now  and  then  a  repetition  of  their  own 
pledge  of  "Bonnie  Scotland." 

Time  went  on.  The  moon  came  out  upon  the  lagoons, 
and  Alan  started  homeward  full  of  strange  fancies,  burning 
to  take  those  sailormen  into  his  confidence,  half  forgetting 
David,  his  son,  only  remembering  the  treasure  ;  and  as  he 
went  swinging  along,  strengthened  physically  and  mentally 
by  the  generous  Italian  wine,  he  lapsed  back  into  reverie 
and  wonder,  into  the  oft-recurring  sensation  of  being  in 
another  world,  in  some  halfway  house  to  Heaven,  some 
earthly  Paradise  anchored  in  a  summer  sea. 

He  sat  down  by  the  steps  of  St.  Mark's,  and  watched  the 
evening  traffic  on  the  Grand  Canal ;  stretched  himself  down 
almost  by  the  water,  where  other  men  were  reclining. 
None  moved  to  give  him  place  either  in  fear  or  friendship. 
They  knew  he  was  mad,  but  he  had  harmed  no  one,  and 
Atilio  spoke  well  of  him.  They  knew  the  mad  Englishman 
had  paid  their  city  the  compliment  of  calling  it  Paradise. 


"  THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF    VENICE."         237 

He  lay  unmolested,  with  his  hands  underneath  his  chin, 
watching  the  gondolas  with  glow-worm  lights  in  their  bows. 
One  or  two  coasters  were  making  for  their  anchorage  by 
the  custom-house  ;  he  traced  the  lines  of  the  great  church 
of  San  Giorgio  Maggiore  against  the  moonlit  sky;  and  he 
was  very  happy  in  a  negative  kind  of  way,  warm,  contented, 
the  wine  coursing  pleasantly  through^his  veins.  He  might 
have  lain  there  all  the  livelong  night  until  the  sun  took  up 
the  story  of  the  moon  aad  adorned  Venice  with  all  the 
beauties  of  the  morning  had  not  Atilio  laid  his  heavy  hand 
upon  him  and  demanded  his  attention. 

"  Dorme  ?  "  said  Atilio. 

Alan  dreamed  on. 

"  Awake,  signori !  "  said  Atilio,  "  venite  con  me  !  " 

"  Wherefore  ? "  asked  the  mad  Englishman,  taking  up  a 
sitting  position,  and  looking  at  Atilio  reproachfully,  as  be- 
ing awakened  from  a  pleasant  sleep. 

Atilio  was  excited.  His  little  English  failed  him  when 
he  was  deeply  moved.  He  could  only  repeat  his  one  word, 
"  awake,"  and  point  with  a  stumpy  finger  in  the  direction 
of  the  ruined  palace  where  they  both  had  the  privelege  to 
lodge. 

"  Home  ?  "  asked  Alan. 

"  Si,  si,  certamente,"  said  the  gondolier,  "  andiamo  a  casa, 
come,  awake,  signori." 

Alan  gathered  himself  up  and  stood  by  Atilio,  so  gaunt 
and  yet  so  picturesque  that  one  or  two  of  the  loungers 
looked  at  him  with  an  admiration  inspired  by  their  inborn 
feeling  for  artistic  effect.  One  of  them  smilingly  asked 
why  the  madman  did  not  continue  to  rise  until  he  topped 
the  campanile  and  could  shake  paws  with  the  lion  of  St. 
Mark. 

Atilio  laughed  and  lifted  up  his  arms,  and  pointing  to 
the  moon  asked  why  not  further  ;  yonder,  where  the 
silent  man  would  know  him  ;  the  man  in  the  moon,  with 


238  UNDER  THE  GKEA  T  SEAL. 

whom  the  signori  held  long  conversations  on  nights  like 
these. 

"Poor  devil,"  said  a  brother  gondolier,  "and  yet  he  is 
happy." 

"  Most  happy,  dreams  he  owns  caskets  of  treasure,  has 
ships  at  sea  laden  with  gold  and  precious  stones  ;  wait,  he 
says,  '  and  I  will  bring  my  donations  of  diamonds,  rubies, 
and  gold,  for  the  domes  of  St.  Marco.'  "  said  Atilio,  chatter- 
ing away  in  Italian,  complimented  by  the  attention  of  his 
audience. 

"  Well,  that  is  good,  he  has  a  greatful  heart,"  the  other 
replied,  "  and  he  adores  our  beautiful  Venice  ;  it  is  suffi- 
cient." 

Alan,  though  now  upon  his  feet,  still  gazed  out  across  the 
canal,  and  now  and  then  looked  up  at  the  moon,  sailing 
along  another  vast  waterway,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  in  the 
heavens  ;  but  presently,  as  if  he  came  out  of  his  dream 
again,  he  asked,  "Wherefore,  Atilio,  wherefore?" 

Atilio  replied  again,  volubly,  but  with  such  a  strange 
mixture  of  English  and  Italian,  that  Alan  could  only  ask 
again  why  he  sought  him,  and  catching  something  of  Atilio's 
enthusiasm,  put  his  question  into  his  own  vernacular,  and 
elaborated  it  without  the  slightest  thought  of  Atilio  :  "  What 
in  the  deevil's  name  d'ye  want  desturbin'  a  man  when  he's 
just  taking  his  ease,  and  requires  neither  yer  service  nor  yet 
yer  companie  ?  " 

And  as  if  he  understood  every  word,  the  gondolier  replied, 
measuring  his  words  carefully  out:  "//  prete,  ze  curato, 
Lavello." 

"  Lavello  !  "  said  Alan,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "  Lavello  ?  " 

"  Lavello,"  repeated  Atilio,  "  come,  signori." 

Atilio  led  the  way  across  the  piazza.  Alan  followed. 
They  knew  the  footpaths  of  Venice  as  well  as  they  knew  her 
waterways. 

"  The  companile  and  the  pin,"  said  one  of  the  loungers, 


"  THE  MAD  ENGLISHMAN  OF   VENICE."         239 

who  had  thitherto  been  a  silent  looker-on,  as  he  turned  to 
watch  Atilio  and  the  madmam  disappear  in  the  shadows 
of  St.  Mark's,  the  companile  striding  out  with  long  legs, 
the  pin  almost  running  to  keep  up  with  it. 

A  burst  of  laughter  greeted  the  humorous  comparison,  to 
be  succeeded  by  the  silence  of  men  who  sleep  and  the  ripple 
of  waters,  that  emphasize  silence. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

A    DREAMER    OF    DREAMS. 

To  listen  to  Father  Lavello,  the  robust  cure"  of  Verona, 
formerly  the  young  enterprising  priest  of  Heart's  Delight, 
was  for  many  days  the  height  of  happiness  to  the  wiry, 
Quixote-looking  Alan  Keith. 

He  lived  again.  The  past  came  back  to  him  without  its 
passion  or  its  pain.  It  was  like  a  story  told.  He  saw  him- 
self outside  himself.  He  was  a  looker-on,  deeply  interested, 
but  only  a  looker-on.  He  loved  that  other  Alan  Keith  for 
loving  Hannah,  to  whom  his  soul  went  back  in  worship  and 
incense. 

Black  clouds  swept  over  his  soul  at  thought  of  Bentz 
and  Ristack,  but  they  passed  as  quickly  as  they  came,  the 
sunshine  predominated. 

Father  Lavello  was  eloquent  in  dwelling  upon  the  mercy 
of  God,  and  the  sympathy  of  the  Holy  Mother  of  God,  for 
Alan  and  the  dear  one  who  had  gone  before.  He  kept 
Alan's  thought's  among  the  gentle  places  of  the  past,  and 
the  boundless  love  of  Alan  for  his  wife  filled  so  much  of 
his  vision  in  looking  back  that  it  sweetened  the  bitterness 
of  his  soul.  His  recollection  of  the  early  days  of  Heart's 
Delight  was  now  above  all  memories  the  most  vivid  aad 
real. 

Alan  told  the  priest  of  the  visits  of  Hannah  to  his 
dungeon,  and  the  cure  turned  the  tender  fancies  to  good 
religious  account.  The  mad  Englishman  soon  became 
known  as  a  devout  Catholic.  The  faithful  deemed  this  to 
be  ample  evidence  of  his  perfect  sanity.  Even  in  those 
days  Venice  had  her  scoffers,  and  the  lean  and  withered 


A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS.  241 

Englishman  mortifying  himself  was,  to  them,  somewhat 
humorous  in  a  grim  kind  of  way  ;  for  most  of  the  Church's 
devotees  were  smug  and  fat,  and  of  contented  dispositions  ; 
whereas  the  mad  Englishmen  was  met  at  all  hours  in  the 
city  wandering  from  church  to  church,  from  narrow  foot- 
way to  narrow  square  ;  while  fishermen  encountered  him 
at  equally  varied  hours,  plying  the  sandolo  which  some 
good  natured  citizen  had  lent  him,  now  with  oar  or  paddle, 
now  skimming  along  under  sail,  a  veritable  Ancient  Mariner, 
with  sparkling  eyes  and  thin  gray  locks  that  fluttered  in  the 
wind. 

Father  Lavello  had  been  enabled  to  almost  complete 
Alan's  story  of  the  secret  harbor  of  Labrador,  the  wreck 
of  the  St.  Dennis,  the  arrest  of  Plympton,  his  acquittal  and 
death,  and  the  destiny  of  his  son  David  and  the  woman  Sally 
Mumford,  in  whose  charge  the  boy  had  been  left.  The 
cure's  advice  kept  Alan  still  in  Venice.  He  had  agents  who 
could  follow  up  the  clew  to  David's  whereabouts,  from  where 
they  had  left  it  some  dozen  or  fifteen  years  previously. 

He  had  long  ago  been  convinced  of  Alan's  death  ;  other 
ties  and  responsibilities  had  diverted  his  attention  from  the 
story  of  David,  his  son.  Heart's  Delight  and  all  that 
belonged  to  it  had  more  or  less  faded  away  except  as  inci- 
dental to  his  career.  A  cure  in  Verona,  such  ambition  as 
he  had  encouraged  at  Heart's  Delight,  with  dreamy  vistas 
of  new  conquests  for  the  Church,  had  died  out.  The 
priest's  mind  had  gradually  taken  up  the  color  and  temper 
of  his  environment.  He  lived  a  quiet  reflective  life, 
enjoyed  his  garden,  drank  his  white  wine  and  red,  con- 
fessed his  flock,  married  them  and  buried  them,  visited 
his  clerical  neighbors,  went  on  voluntary  pilgrimages  to 
monastic  establishments  where  he  was  heartily  welcome 
with  his  genial  face  and  his  happy  views  of  life  ;  and  alto- 
gether had  become  a  calm,  contented,  well-to-do  cure, 
with  his  little  house,  his  careful  old  housekeeper,  who  was 


242  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

an  excellent  cook,  his  library,  and  his  uniformly  good 
health. 

For  a  time  he  had  been,  however,  greatly  moved  at  the 
meeting  with  Alan  Keith.  Like  his  old  parishioner  of 
Heart's  Delight,  during  their  conversations  he  felt  some  of 
the  old  passion  of  the  colonial  days,  the  inspiration  of 
adventure  born  of  the  Atlantic  Sea.  Once  more  he  felt  his 
pulse  hurry  on  with  reminiscences  of  the  stirring  episode  of 
the  Fisheries  in  summer,  and  winter  stories  by  the  Great 
House  fire,  when  the  winds  were  raging  without,  making 
snow  drifts  mountains  high  in  the  valleys,  and  wrapping  the 
shore  as  far  as  eye  could  see  in  a  vast  winding  sheet. 

Furthermore  his  sense  of  the  romantic  had  been  piqued 
by  Alan's  honest  story  of  the  adventurers  of  Wilderness 
Creek,  though  he  had  crossed  himself  many  times  during 
Alan's  narratives  of  the  capture  of  the  Anne  of  Dartmouth, 
and  the  vengeance  that  had  been  wreaked  upon  the  three 
fishing  admirals. 

Alan  had  to  undergo  certain  incidents  of  prayer  and 
penance  before  the  cure  could  feel  justified  iu  assuring 
him  of  that  forgiveness  with  which  he  was  empowered  to 
console  him  in  the  name  of  St.  Peter  ;  all  the  same,  the 
good  priest  found  himself  sympathizing  with  his  penitent, 
whose  confessional  exercises  were  rather  secular  than 
religious,  triumphant  rather  than  humble  and  contrite. 
Alan  was,  however,  as  wax  in  the  hands  of  the  cure,  so  far 
as  outward  form  and  ceremony  were  concerned  ;  and  once 
more  he  thought  Hannah  came  to  him,  and  he  dreamed  the 
old  dreams  over  again,  the  dreams  that  had  made  life  and 
his  long  imprisonment  a  possibility  of  life  and  sanity  ;  for 
as  we  know,  however  Venice  might  agree  with  the  Moorish 
jailer  in  calling  him  mad  Alan,  had  given  him  ample  evi- 
dence of  a  strong  power  of  mind  that  had  enabled  him  to 
withstand  the  breaking  down  and  ruin  of  his  mental  facul- 
ties. It  is  not  madness  to  dream  ;  it  is  madness  not  to  dream. 


A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS.  243 

"  It  wouldna  'a'  been  a  matter  for  wonder  if  I'd  gane 
clean  daft,  a  Jack  o'  Bedlam,"  said  Alan  in  one  of  his  talks 
with  the  cure"  ;  "think  o'  it!  Twenty  years  o'  bondage! 
First  a  slave,  a  Christian  slave  amang  blacks.  Lastly,  a 
prisoner,  barely  seein'  the  leight  for  nigh  upon  ten  year  or 
mair  !  I  didna  count  the  time  then,  but  I've  been  reckoning 
the  years  ever  since  I  gat  free  !  " 

"  It  is  terrible,"  said  the  cure,  "  as  you  say,  it  is  wonderful 
that  you  have  retained  your  reason,  my  poor  dear  friend  ; 
but  Christ  and  his  Holy  Mother  have  had  you  in  their 
keeping.  And  how  came  you  in  the  hands  of  the  slave- 
dealers  ?" 

"  Saving  me  from  the  sea  and  the  jagged  rocks,  divine 
Providence  thocht  reight  to  drop  me  into  the  hands  of  what 
they  call  Riff  pirates,  trading  in  human  flesh  ;  they  made 
nae  difference  between  Christians  and  heathens,  Europeans 
and  Africans,  and  I  went  wi'  the  rest ;  ye'd  a  thocht  if  ye 
could  just  a-seen  me,  wi'  nae  mair  flesh  on  my  bones  than 
was  enough  to  haud  them  thigether,  that  the  inhuman  beasts 
woud  a-let  me  free  ;  but  nae,  as  I  tell  ye,  I  went  wi'  the  rest  ? " 

"  My  poor  friend  !  "  said  the  cure". 

"It  is  said  there's  nae  depth  without  a  lower,  and  its  true 
ivvery  word  o'  it.  Eh,  how  I  sighed  for  the  days  o'  the 
slavery  !  When  they  shut  me  up  between  stane  walls,  I  had 
nae  idea  how  happy  I'd  been  slavin'  i'  the  sun,  tillin'  the 
groond,  carrying  heavy  loads,  pulling  an  oar  chained  to  the 
seat,  getting  now  and  then  a  bitter  taste  o'  blows,  sleeping 
at  neight  wi'  a  shedfu'  o'  African  niggers,  and  a'maist  as 
many  Europeans,  who,  like  mysel',  had  once  been  white  ! 
God,  man,  when  I  think  o'  it,  I  thirst  for  blood  like  a  tiger 
turn'd  to  bay  !  " 

Alan  tore  open  his  Oriental  vest  and  robe  and  paced  the 
floor,  animal- like,  as  if  he  were  caged,  the  good  priest 
slowly  following  him,  uttering  kindly  and  soothing  words. 

"  Forgive    me  !  "    said   Alan    presently,   "  forgive   me ! 


244  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

There  are  times  when  the  devil  seems  to  tak  haud  o'  me, 
and  upbraid  me  that  I  didna  find  opportunity  to  cut  the 
throats  o'  them  ?  And,  man,  I  did  seek  it,  but  they  had 
the  scent  o'  bludhounds  for  danger  and  a'  their  watchful- 
ness !  " 

"  There,  there,  my  son,  my  dear  old  friend,  be  calm,  sit 
down,"  urged  the  priest,  the  thought  passing  through  his 
mind  that  had  he  himself  been  more  intent  upon  the 
technical  observances  of  Holy  Church,  he  might  have  elected 
to  pass  his  days  in  some  lonely  conventual  cell. 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,"  said  Alan,  "  I  amna  quite  mysel'  at 
times,  and  nae  wonder,  as  ye  are  gude  enough  to  say, 
thinking  o'  the  gude  time  I  hae  wasted  !  " 

"  Why  did  they  detain  you  in  prison  ?  "  asked  the  priest, 
deeply  interested  in  Alan's  story,  whenever  his  strange 
friend  was  willing  to  relate  his  adventures. 

"  Nae,  I  dinna  ken  !  I  just  expected  they'd  tak  my  heed 
off.  Sometimes  I  wish  they  had,  saving  your  riverance's 
presence,  as  puir  Pat  Doolan  used  to  say,  when  he  ootraged 
the  deescipline  o'  the  Church.  Eh,  hoo  often  I  hae  thocht 
o'  those  days  o'  Heart's  Delight,  sometimes  comin'  tae 
regard  them  a'  as  just  a  dream,  a  kind  o'  life  a  man  might 
hae  leeved  before  he  was  born  !  D'ye  nae  ken  yersel'  the 
day  when  ye've  felt  ye  hae  liv'd  in  anither  warld,  and  that 
ye  hae  been  left  somehow  behind  in  this  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  next  world  I'm  most  concerned  about,"  said 
the  priest,  again  patting  the  old  man's  bony  hand,  and 
looking  into  the  wandering  eyes  of  his  friend  with  compas- 
sion, and  the  wish  to  soothe  and  comfort  him. 

"  Aye,  ivvery  man  to  his  trade,"  said  Alan  ;  "  but  ye  were 
asking  why  they  didna  hang  me  ?  " 

"  No,  why  they  kept  you  in  prison  ?  " 

"  That's  ane  o'  the  puzzles  I  often  axed  mysel'  !  I  earned 
naething  for  them  in  prison,  I  was  just  a  wee  bit  usefu' 
ootside.  But  ane  o'  my  jailers  dropt  a  hint  ane  day  that, 


A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS.  245 

by  the  intervention  o*  the  Christian  powers,  Christian 
slavery  had  been  abolished,  and  that  even  piracy  had 
become  a  deeficult  business.  Ye  see  there  had  been  some 
kind  o'  rebellion  i'  the  land  ;  a  risin'  o'  the  tribes,  and  I 
had  ta'en  a  hand  in  it,  bein'  suddenly  freed  for  that  purpose  ; 
but  it  was  just  a  fizzle,  and  I  had  nae  time  eether  to  get 
into  the  feight  or  run  for  liberty,  before  I  was  a  prisoner  in 
the  hands  o'  the  sultan  or  the  king,  or  whativver  they  ca'd 
the  turbanned  deevil,  and  when  I  wouldna  boo  wi'  the  rest, 
insteed  o'  haeing  my  head  chopp'd  off,  I  was  taen  aside,  and 
my  nationality  bein'  discovered  by  ane,  they  ca'd  an  inter- 
preter ;  I  was  released  as  a  slave,  and  imprisoned  as  a 
trailer,  or  a  foreign  spy,  or  what  ye  will,  God  in  heaven 
only  knaws,  I  dinna,  but  they  kept  me  in  the  prison  o' 
Tafilet.  I  gathered  frae  my  jailer  that  I  was  regarded  as 
an  uncannie  kind  o'  agent  in  the  rising,  a  danger  to  what 
they  ca'd  the  State,  and  being  English,  a  kind  o'  fiend 
either  to  kill  or  chain  up,  and  sae,  in  mercifu'  consideration 
o'  their  victory,  they  decided  to  chain  me  up,  and  shut  me 
oot  frae  the  light  o'  heaven  !  I  wouldna  a-been  surprised 
gin  they  had  seen  me  rise  up  from  the  coral  strand  that  I 
was  the  very  fiend  himself  come  to  plague  them.  Eh,  but 
it  was  just  a  wonderfu'  thing  how  I  made  my  way  out  o' 
that  fearsome  watter,  wi'  the  rocks  that  jagged,  you  might 
a  thought  even  the  Evil  One  couldna  hae  survived  them  !  " 

"  Almighty  God  was  good  to  you,  my  son,"  said  the  cure. 

"  I  hae  tried  to  think  sae,  my  dear  friend,"  Alan  replied, 
"  but  what  about  the  ithers  that  perished  ? " 

"  The  blessed  saints  must  have  interceded  for  you,"  said 
the  cure, "  and  Our  Almighty  Father  had  work  for  you,  who 
knows,  perhaps  for  the  glorification  of  his  Church,  for  you 
were,  as  I  remember,  my  son,  a  brand  snatched  from  the 
burning,  by  the  good  influences  of  that  saintly  woman  who 
was  given  to  you  as  a  helpmate  and  companion. 

"It  passes  belief  that  God  could  hae  any  work  for  sae 


OT250T  THE  GKEAT  SEAL. 

pair  a  aeatare,fbr  ane  sac  punished  and  persecuted,'"  Alan 
answered,  •'and  ret  k  was  •nracnloas  that  I  was  resor- 
rected,  as  you  ought  say,  frae  that  Grin"  grave  to  be 
pinged  imtae  amther,  and  still  be  saved  to  see  ye  once 
again  in  the  lesh.  While  inrery  timber  o"  the  ship  went  to 
pieces  and  rcvery  nan  o*  the  pair  bodies  wha  had  sailed  wf 
me  amd  fought  wi"  Me  went  to  the  bottom  ;  I  was  lifted  out 
o"  the  breakers,  and  I  rase  reight  op,  a"  torn  and  lagged  it 
is  trae,  wT  bfaadm'  hands  and  feet,  bat  I  stood  scight  op  a" 
lie  sane  Eke  a  firin"  pfflar  on  a  mighty  plain  o'  ribbed 
sand  ;  and  I  started  off  to  walk  agin  the  red  bars  o*  the 
and  hot  to  my  bkedin*  feet,  a"  the 
ht  o"  the  day.  And  when  I  reached 
y  that  I  thonght  on  as  the  Xew 
d  a  tfc..MJ»^  I  had  only  risen  from 
rery,  W-**W»  alatdy.  I  came  nigh 
myself—  asking  yoor  reference's 
orn  frae  me,  I'm  nae  sae  wicked  as 

t  miiortanate,""  said  the  priest. 
eedom  hardly  worse,  frae  freedom  to 
eU,  feightin"  for  what  I  didna  ken  ; 


mercy  seat.    It 
d  o"  my  wounds 

er  ;  what  should 
hooid  hae  been 

ness.    Is  it  nae 


""  -  -  1  "w  :  i  irr  if.  ~~  pi>c»<?«r«  ""^'Pt'J  son,  that  yoa  do  not 
T  r:i:"i:jn  tied  fT:cn:  2Jbe  BMsansetos,,'™  rt»r  care  iffffd  aJFec- 


~  •-  .  ~  ~v  r  r-r  i..  "vr^js  iir-d  and  «am<k  uU  ,mj  father,"*  said 
:  .  ::t  ^:::r":~z.  his  eyes  moist  with  emotion, 

C  tihimlr  I  aiBnma  •  there  are  I 


A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS.  247 

in  tins  heavenly  dry  when  I  forget  everything,  savin*  the 
sunshine,  the  bloc  skies,  and  the  wondrous  palaces,  and 
when  I  fed  as  if  I  had  begun  to  walk  the  sacred  streets  o* 
Paradise.  D'ye  mind  the  saintly  tender  wife  I  lad  oat 
yonder  in  Heart's  Delight  ?  Ah,  it  was  only  she  that  kept 
me  frae  madnrgg  She  came  tome  awl  sat  by  me,  and 
talked  to  me  in  her  soft  sweet  voice,  and  bad  me  be 
'^  -  -.-  .  -  .  t  :  ~t  :  7  ;_  t:  .  .  .  ..-_  :.,  :'  it  ; .  r. 
—  t  -v  ::.:  r  -:  7  :  -;  _:_:._;  •-;-;•;.  .  . -: 
to  hers  ;  awl  he'd  fairiy  greet  what  I  towd  him  who  I  had 

ii:  r.r  :.:.    nt.  111  :    _    •_. t  _:.::.:.:    t .:        r  tr  ::.: :i  :it 

gates;  eh,  bat  it  was  a  sad  day  forme  when  theowdman 
drrd.  mil  luitwr  rnmr  I*  hir  nlirr  uh  i  trnwd  •  n  Juu  ph, 
as  die  Scriptnre  hath  k ! " 

^  U  was  the  Bkssed  Mary  that  led  her  thither,  my  son  ; 
j:  -  ii-  :riTt  :  ::  :it  H     •   ',"  --  ',  - 

"  I  had  prayed  to  God  and  tfaeKesscd  Viigm,  to  Blessed 
V.:iir.  :it  A:::.i:~t  ::  ::.t  i:v  i:-:r.  -;  I--:t:  i:.: 
3  i-  .  ii  _  : :  i  .  : :.-  -_  :•  I  i  tvt:  it.i:  ;  .  _  -  _:: -T  •  :  .  .-- 
happy  days  in  the  little  chapel  in  the  bay  awl  the  Great 
~~.  ---  :  .  : T  _-„:_-.:-_:.:  K  _•-  i  -  :. t :  1 1~  t  ^  ir  :  i 
my  lips  in  season  and  oot,  and  one  day  or  waght  she 
ran^» — I  conidioa  «*"*^»  HiaJiiigniA  Height  frae  day — sjhe 
came  with  a  great  leigiit  about  her.  I  could  see  ivwery 
:it  f .  ;  -  .  :  :.  :i  --  :  :  :  :i  "i:  _  : 

:  :  :  :  :  -  7  :  7-7  :  :r.t:  :  i  :  "^t ; 
:;  ::.t  Ti;.ty  Hti"  j  .  :.:ti:  _  _  7  ^i:  :  .:>  _r  :  t 
teat  they  made  her  there, and  Iconld  see  her  gracious 
countenance  and  hear  her  heavenly  voice,  and  fed  her  soft 
ii  i;  .  ~  :  _  ..:..:-  _f  •:..  :rr  v  .;  :  "  :  v  . : 
y  t..- :  5  :  :  .  -  7  -  :  _  r  :  :  _  7  .  .; :.  .  11  i  i;  i  -  -  -  ".  - ' 
daj,  and  the  prison  walls  fell  down  and  we  sat  beneath  the 
::tt5  .  :  Mt^r.  •  J ;  :.:r. -.:::_:  i  :;•=:':  ::.i:  i:-:-j.f  .'  _t:t:.- 
:  .  .  i  _  ^  i  _  :  7  f-  7 :-.  i  •  _  i  :  :  t :  :  : :  -  :  -  -  '  '  --  i 
sea  and  a  city  a*  in  one,  I  nae  had  sigM  o*  her  but  once !  * 


248  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  You  have  seen  her  again  ?  "  said  the  priest. 

"  Aye,  last  neight  of  a'  ithers  ;  but  it  was  different  frae 
the  prison  and  it  was  only  in  a  dream  ;  she  came  to  me  the 
neight  and  she  led  a  young  man  by  the  hand  ;  he  was  drip- 
ping wet  wi'  the  sea ;  'twas  a  sailor  lad,  and  she  said  un to- 
me soft  and  low  but  in  clear  accents,  impressive  and  delib- 
erate, '  This  is  our  dear  son  David,  be  good  to  him,  he  will 
need  your  help  and  love.'  At  first  I  thought  he  mun  be 
dead,  but  she  smiled  as  if  she  knew  my  thought  and  said, 
'  No  he  lives ' ;  and  then  I  woke  and  went  forth  ;  it  was 
break  o*  day  and  Atilio  was  up  and  in  his  boat,  and  he  put 
her  head  about  and  we  sailed  into  the  lagoons  and  the 
world  was  just  beautifu'  beyond  imagination,  and  I  said  to 
mysel',  I'll  see  him  hereabouts,  my  dear  son  David,  and  the 
wind  coming  in  from  the  blue  sea  I  just  thought  answered 
me  and  said,  yes ;  and  I  felt  that  I  should  ken  him  the 
moment  I  set  eyes  upon  him,  for  the  lad  she  held  so  tender- 
like  by  the  hand  had  her  winsome  look  in's  eyes,  and  I 
could  remember  my  ain  sel'  when  like  him,  I  was  that  tall 
and  straight,  like  a  young  poplar  swaying  in  the  wind  ; 
though  now  I  look  like  that  same  tree  blasted  by  the  light- 
ning, with  bare  branches,  a  jest  and  a  scoffing  to  those  wha 
hae  escaped  the  storms." 

"  Not  so,  dear  friend,  gray  hairs  are  honorable,  and  the 
lightning  has  not  withered  your  heart,  nor  blighted  your 
life.  You  have  sinned  greatly." 

"  Aye,  I  know  it  ! "  said  Alan. 

"  We  have  all  sinned  greatly,"  continued  the  priest,  "  but 
few  have  been  punished  upon  earth  as  our  Heavenly  Father 
hath  punished  you  ;  and  as  I  have  already  vouched  for  it 
on  your  contrition,  your  resolution  to  sin  no  more,  and  your 
humble  confession,  your  sins  are  forgiven  you.  To-morrow 
in  chapel,  fitting  time  and  place,  we  will  speak  further  of 
this.  Meanwhile,  Atilio  you  see  has  laid  the  cloth,  and  it 
it  fitting  we  refresh  the  physical  man." 


A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS.  249 

"  Aye,  but  ye  tak'  me  straight  back  to  Heart's  Delight !  " 
said  Alan,  pushing  his  straggling  hair  from  his  forehead. 
"  Ye  always  know  how  to  win  a  man  from  unhappy  thoughts, 
how  to  soothe  his  temper.  Spiritual  and  pheesical  I  always 
said  Father  Lavello  had  nae  equal  on  airth  !  Teresse,  bring 
the  chekkens.  Atilio,  pour  out  the  wine." 

The  cure  smiled  and  drew  his  chair  to  the  table  and 
talked  of  the  Austrians  and  the  fortunes  of  war,  told  stories 
of  Venice  when  she  was  mistress  of  the  seas,  talked  of 
Verona,  and  coaxed  his  host  back  from  the  hard  lines  of 
his  miseries  into  the  genial  atmosphere  of  the  Lion  of  St. 
Mark. 

Father  Lavello  set  his  agents  in  England  to  work  finding 
out  David  Keith  ;  and  they  traced  him  to  old  Petherick's 
at  Yarmouth.  It  took  months,  however,  to  conduct  the 
correspondence.  While  they  were  waiting  for  information, 
Alan  and  Father  Lavello  made  their  dispositions  for  the 
future  of  Alan's  son  and  heir.  The  cure,  with  a  righteous 
regard  for  higher  powers  than  their  own,  took  frequent 
occasion  to  warn  Alan  by  reference  to  the  past,  that  what 
might  seem  to  man  the  most  wise  and  virtuous  plans  did 
not  always  find  favor  with  God.  They  had  both  good 
hopes,  nevertheless,  that  Alan  might  live  to  embrace  his 
son  and  endow  him  with  such  of  his  worldly  goods  as  he 
deemed  honestly  come  by,  with  a  reversion  of  other 
treasures  to  the  service  of  Holy  Mother  Church. 

Meanwhile,  with  the  aid  of  a  wise  councilor  and  banker 
in  Venice,  Alan  had  been  enabled  to  withdraw  from  the 
Bank  of  England  a  considerable  sum  of  money  that  had 
lain  there  on  deposit  since  the  days  when  David  Piympton 
had  induced  his  son-in-law  to  place  there  a  part  of 
Hannah's  dowry  and  certain  savings  of  his  own. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Alan  that  no  legal  or  other  record 
of  his  piracy  had  come  between  him  and  his  written  and 
duly  witnessed  order  for  this  money — the  admiral  who 


250  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

fought  the  St.  George  having,  as  we  have  seen,  wiped 
out  with  his  official  narrative  every  soul  connected  with  it — 
the  only  living  creature  who  could  have  given  evidence  to 
the  contrary  being  Lester  Bentz,  who,  having  been  knighted 
"  for  distinguished  services  to  his  country,"  was  at  that 
time  doing  official  duty  as  governor  of  a  group  of  islands 
far  away  from  Newfoundland.  Sir  Lester  Bentz  was  indeed 
a  man  of  influence  and  consideration.  He  had  taken  out 
with  him  to  his  island  home  a  young  wife,  and  it  is  quite 
possible  that  he  has  founded  a  family  of  colonial  governors 
who  will  carry  the  name  of  Bentz  with  honor  and  distinc- 
tion to  official  graves.  Father  Lavello  declined  to  discuss 
with  Alan  the  mysterious,  not  to  say  peculiar,  ways  of 
Providence  as  exemplified  in  the  case  of  Sir  Lester  Bentz, 
except  to  point  out  to  him  the  usefulness  of  Sir  Lester's 
absence  from  England,  and  the  utter  improbability  of  his 
ever  being  in  a  position  to  do  further  injury  to  him  or  his 
son. 

So  the  time  went  on,  and  Alan  found  himself  not  only  no 
longer  penniless  but  a  man  of  current  means,  with  gold  in 
his  pocket  and  gold  in  the  Venetian  bank. 

From  being  laughed  at  in  Venice  and  treated  with  pitying 
smiles,  he  became  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  city, 
beloved  of  the  poor,  respected  of  the  rich,  an  eccentric  it  is 
true,  still  a  little  mad,  but  with  method  in  his  madness,  and 
in  his  bright,  flashing  eyes  the  light  of  benevolence. 

The  solitary  Turk  salaamed  him,  for  he  had  brought  light 
and  warmth  and  furniture  and  tapestries  back  to  the  old 
palace.  The  gondolier  and  his  wife  obeyed  his  every  whim, 
for  he  had  made  their  gloomy  cover  in  the  back  ways  of  the 
palace  homelike  and  comfortable  ;  so  that  when  the  winter 
came  they  were  not  perished,  and  they  had  wine  every  day 
and  blessed  the  Virgin  and  her  messenger,  the  mad  English- 
man, for  it. 

Thus  in  these  days  of  his  premature  age  and  solitude, 


A  DREAMER  OF  DREAMS.  251 

Alan  Keith  found  something  of  consolation  and  recompense 
for  much  of  his  suffering,  and  with  promise  of  a  living  son 
to  take  his  hand  and  pass  down  the  last  hills  of  life  with  him  ; 
a  son  to  whom  he  could  talk  of  his  mother  ;  a  son  to  whom 
he  could  tell  the  secret  of  Demon's  Rock  ;  a  son  whom  he 
could  endow  with  wealth  and  power  ;  a  son  who  might 
restore  the  names  of  Keith  and  Plympton  to  honor  and 
respect  at  home  and  in  Newfoundland. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

BAD    OMENS   FOR   THE  "MORNING    STAR." 

No  sooner  was  the  Morning  Star  well  on  her  way  than 
she  became  the  sport  and  scoff  of  the  elements.  Ships  are 
lucky  or  unlucky,  as  men  are.  The  Morning  Star  was 
unlucky. 

If  there  had  been  a  league  of  fate  against  her  she  could 
not  have  been  worse  beset  than  she  was  on  this  voyage, 
which  was  to  be  memorable  in  the  career  of  David  Keith. 

He  set  out  with  a  cheerful  heart.  His  hopes  rose  high 
with  his  love.  Elmira  had  given  him  a  token  of  her  pledged 
affection.  It  was  a  ring,  in  exchange  for  one  he  had  pressed 
upon  her  finger  at  parting.  Sally  Mumford,  his  foster 
mother,  had  said  "  Good-by  "  bravely,  without  a  tear  that 
he  could  see.  Mildred  Hope  had  permitted  him  to  kiss  her 
forehead  and  press  her  generous  hand.  Zaccheus  Webb 
had  broached  a  special  keg  of  brandy  that  had  been  smug- 
gled  from  the  Mounseers,  and  had  drunk  himself  into 
ballads  and  sea  songs  ;  and  Harry  Barkstead  had  gone  as 
far  as  Bristol  with  his  friend  and  made  the  coach-ride  merry 
with  his  free  and  hearty  manners  ;  furthermore,  he  had 
given  quite  an  air  of  distinction  to  David's  sailing  by  his 
patronage  of  the  captain  and  owners  of  the  Morning  Star 
bound  for  Halifax  and  St.  John's. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  promising  than  David's 
trip  until  the  Morning  Star  begun  to  buffet  the  great  rollers 
of  the  North  Atlantic.  Her  troubles  did  not  come  upon  her 
suddenly  or  altogether  unexpected,  for  the  glass  had  begun 
to  fall  steadily  from  the  time  she  was  clear  of  the  land. 


BAD  OMENS  FOR  THE  "MORNING  STAR."        253 

But  one  peril  followed  another  with  the  direst  persistence. 
She  encountered  a  steady  crescendo  of  disaster. 

There  was  not  a  cloud  when  she  encountered  her  first 
fierce  gale.  The  skies  were  a  steely  blue.  Walking  over 
the  dunes  at  Caister,  or  tramping  along  the  Yarmouth 
streets,  you  would  have  said  it  was  a  fine  breezy  day. 
Fishing  smacks  might  have  delayed  putting  out  to  sea  until 
the  glass  changed ;  otherwise  it  would  not  have  been 
thought,  especially  by  landsmen,  anything  but  good  weather; 
yet  on  board  the  Morning  Star  it  was  awful. 

The  winds  raged  from  every  quarter  of  the  compass. 
The  sea  rose  in  vast  waves  that  beat  upon  the  ship  with 
thunderous  blows. 

David  Keith  had  seen  storms  in  the  North  Sea.  He  had 
ridden  through  heavy  gales  with  Zaccheus  Webb  in  the 
Flying  Scud,  that  did  not  fly,  but  labored  and  kept  her  keel 
strong  and  steady,  a  veritable  Dutchman  for  stern  and 
beam  ;  but  he  had  seen  nothing  like  the  North  Atlantic ; 
had  heard  nothing  like  the  roar  of  the  winds  that  drove 
against  the  Morning  Star,  and  at  times  threatened  literally 
to  blow  her  out  of  the  water.  Now  she  was  on  her  side  ; 
now  she  would  right  herself  to  rise  upon  the  topmost  wave 
as  if  to  slip  into  the  gulf  beyond,  all  the  time  straining  and 
crying  like  a  living  thing.  The  sailors  strove  to  ease  her, 
tying  up  everything  that  could  give  an  extra  grip  for  the 
strong  unseen  arms  of  the  wind  that  tore  at  her  and  ripped 
her  sails  whenever  there  was  a  stretch  of  canvas  to  lay  hold 
upon. 

"Tell  'e  she  be  unlucky,"  David  heard  one  of  the  Bristol 
men  say  to  another  during  a  passing  lull  in  the  tempest. 
"  I  grant,  as  you  says,  that  she  did  not  sail  zactly  on  a  Friday, 
but  it  were  the  thirteenth  of  the  month,  and  Matt  White  of 
Welsh  Back  met  a  cat  as  he  wor  going  on  board  to  the  slip 
where  the  Star  was  moored." 

"  I  dunno  as  cats  is  onlucky,"  said  the  other,  "  I  don't 


254  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

hold  with  all  they  says  about  cats,  nor  yet  about  pigs  being 
unlucky." 

"  Don't  'e !  Well,  then  I  tell  'e'  they  be  as  onlucky  as 
priests  or  women  on  a  ship  !  " 

"  Well,  Billy,"  was  the  reply,  "  I'd  risk  the  luck  if  I  had 
my  gal  abroad." 

"Would 'enow?  Then  I  wouldn't,  so  I  tell 'e  !  I  believes 
strong  in  omens,  and  you  mark  my  words ;  and  talking  of 
pigs,  there  was  a  drove  of  beasts  unloading  in  the  Welsh 
Back  the  very  day  we  was  towed  down  the  river.  And  you 
knows  well  enough  that  Matt  White  dreamed  as  the  Morning 
Star  would  go  down,  and  didn't  waunt  to  sail  in  her,  but  they 
med  him  ;  and  once  afore  on  a  similar  dream  the  Warlock 
did  go  down,  as  sure  as  we  are  in  for  the  dirtiest  weather  as 
ever  was  !  " 

David  being  the  only  passenger  on  board  had  opportunities 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  officers  and  crew.  During 
the  first  few  days  he  enjoyed  the  trip  immensely.  The  cap- 
tain was  a  sturdy  if  somewhat  silent  man,  but  he  listened 
respectfully  to  David's  fishing  adventures. 

The  first  mate  liked  to  talk  and  he  found  David  a  good 
listener.  The  northern  coast  of  Newfoundland  was  well 
known  to  him,  and  he  gave  it  a  bad  character.  It  was  not 
only  a  danger  to  ships  but  it  harbored  desperadoes.  The 
coast  was  sparsely  populated  and  all  manner  of  ruffians 
occupied  it,  building  themselves  shanties  in  the  rocky  caves 
and  to  his  certain  knowledge  practicing  the  villainous  work 
of  wrecking  and  robbery.  From  this  they  drifted  into  the 
traditions  of  the  coast,  and  then  into  stories  of  the  super- 
stitions of  sailors.  David  told  him  what  he  had  overheard, 
and  the  mate  confessed  that  there  was  a  feeling  of  uneasiness 
in  the  ship.  He  had  advised  the  captain  to  let  Matt  White 
quit,  but  the  captain  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian  and  he  would 
not  hear  of  a  man  who  had  signed  articles  being  released  on 
frivolous  grounds ;  for  Matt  had  confessed  that  the  only 


BAD  OME.VS  FOR  THE  "  MORNINO  STAR."        =55 

reason  for  his  desire  to  get  another  ship  was  on  account  of 
a  dream. 

During  the  heaviest  stress  of  the  first  gale  that  was  noted 
in  her  log  two  of  the  crew  of  the  Morning  Star  came  nigh 
upon  throwing  Matt  White,  of  the  Welsh  Back,  overboard, 
as  a  Jonah,  but  they  relented  when  the  storm  abated,  and 
Matt  had  shown  himself  as  willing  as  he  was  capable,  taking 
every  bit  of  dangerous  duty  assigned  to  him  with  a  cheerful 
"  Aye,  aye,"  and  holding  out  upon  the  yards  with  superb 
grip  when  the  sail  at  every  bulge  seemed  as  if  it  must  fling 
him  into  the  sea.  If  Matt  feared  he  did  not  show  it,  except 
when  omeqs  were  talked  about.  No  sailor  aboard  had  a 
sterner  nerve,  none  worked  as  Matt  did,  without  a  murmur, 
even  when  piped  from  the  short  and  intermittent  rests  that 
hollowed  the  cheeks  of  other  men  and  took  the  strength 
out  of  their  arms. 

David  had  slept  but  little  for  several  nights  when  at  last 
the  weather  improved,  and  once  more  the  men  were  busy 
unfurling  sails  and  hoping  to  take  full  advantage  of  the 
wind  that  seemed  to  be  changing  in  favor  of  the  voyage. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  can  count  on  a  little  rest  to-night," 
said  the  captain,  as  he  scanned  the  horizon. 

"  You  think  the  worst  is  over  ?  "  said  David. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  the  captain. 

"  You  doubt  it  ?  " 

"  I  do  ;  my  advice  is  to  get  some  sleep  while  you  can, 
Mr.  Keith." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  David. 

The  captain  went  below.  The  mate  took  his  place  on 
deck.  But  the  mate  was  no  longer  talkative,  and  David, 
as  he  watched  the  sunset,  found  his  thoughts  going  back 
to  England,  to  Elmtra  and  his  foster  mother,  to  Zaccheus 
Webb  and  the  old  house  on  the  dunes.  The  wind  was  still 
high,  but  David  was  no  mere  landsman,  and  he  heeded  not 
the  pitching  and  swirl  of  the  ship  as  she  beat  up  into  the 


256  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

wind,  and  seemed  to  stretch  forth  wide  open  wings,  as  if 
she  would  fly  from  the  storm  that  was  coming  up  with  fresh 
forces. 

David  paced  the  deck  and  lifted  his  face  up  to  the  spray 
that  scattered  itself  among  the  lower  rigging  and  beat  upon 
him  like  rain  and  hail. 

The  crew  were  all  busy  about  him,  modifying  the  swing 
of  a  sail  here  and  there,  and  following  the  signals  of  the 
boatswain's  cheerful  whistle.  David  looked  beyond  the 
ship  and  pictured  Yarmouth  and  Caister  and  all  that  he 
loved  there.  Mildred  Hope  came  into  his  mind,  and  at 
thought  of  her  he  offered  up  a  silent  prayer  that  he  might 
be  spared  to  return  to  the  little  house  in  Hartley's 
Row. 

The  stars  came  out,  clear  and  bright.  David  thought  of 
the  one  that  might  be  shining  over  the  home  of  Elmira. 

It  might  have  been  that  his  father  was  looking  up  at  the 
heavens,  too — making  allowance  for  the  difference  of  time 
— and  wondering  and  thinking  of  the  son  who  knew  him 
not,  and  who  deemed  him  dead  long,  long  ago.  The  cure 
had  been  able  to  report  to  Alan  Keith  the  departure  of 
David  for  Newfoundland.  The  information  had  come  from 
Petherick,  with  whom  Father  Lavello  had  resumed  a  cor- 
Tespondence  that  had  already  proved  so  consoling  to  Alan. 
It  may  therefore  well  be  that  "  the  mad  Englishman  of 
Venice  "  would  think  of  David  at  sunset  and  when  the 
stars  came  out,  for  it  is  then,  somehow,  that  men  are  most 
accustomed  to  ponder  over  those  they  love,  especially  when 
they  are  travelers  far  away.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that  Alan 
could  not,  even  in  his  dreams,  see  David,  his  son,  on  board 
the  Morning  Star. 

With  the  setting  of  the  sun  the  wind  rose  still  higher. 
There  was,  however,  no  suggestion  of  any  fresh  danger. 
The  vessel  had  already  behaved  so  well,  that  she  might  be 
fairly  expected  to  ride  out  any  other  storm  that  struck  her 


BAD  OMENS  FOR  THE  "  MORNING  STAR."        257 

path.     With  a  cheery  "  Good-night,  Mr.  Thompson,"  David 
left  the  mate  to  his  labors  and  went  to  bed. 

Two  hours  later  he  was  awakened  by  the  well-known 
commotion  that  belongs  to  a  storm  at  sea.  It  did  not  need 
an  experienced  ear  to  make  out  that  the  ship  was  in  the 
throes  of  a  desperate  struggle.  The  wash  of  the  sea  could 
be  heard  like  a  cataract  sweeping  the  deck.  It  wasaccom- 
panied  by  the  hard,  steady  beat  of  the  prow  against  the 
waves.  She  seemed  to  be  pounding  the  sea  as  if  a  mighty 
hammer  was  at  work.  "  All  hands,  ahoy  !  "  rose  trumpet- 
like  in  the  blast,  followed  by  what  sounded  to  be  "  Aye, 
ayes."  Then  there  was  a  confusion  of  sounds,  a  ripping 
and  a  staggering,  as  if  whatever  sails  had  to  be  reefed  had 
evidently  gone  in  tatters  before  the  wind.  A  sound  as  of 
musketry  followed.  This  was  the  jib  blown  to  ribbons. 
Shouts  again — some  half  heard — commenced  ;  this  time 
through  a  speaking  trumpet — "  Lay  up  on  that  main  yard," 
seemed  to  pierce  the  other  noises.  Another  scramble  of 
feet,  and  responsive  cries  of  willingness  and  effort  ;  the 
flapping  of  sails  like  the  beat  of  mighty  wings,  a  falling  of 
blocks  on  the  deck,  thunder  and  straining  of  timbers. 

David  scrambled  from  his  berth  and  crawled  on  deck, 
among  the  broken  yards  and  entanglements  of  rigging. 
The  royal  mast  was  being  cut  adrift.  The  galley  went  by 
the  board,  both  anchors  had  worked  loose,  one  of  them  was 
bearing  down  among  the  wreckage  of  sails  and  timbers  ; 
a  water  barrel  was  rolling  from  side  to  side,  the  ship  was 
groaning  as  if  her  timbers  would  part.  Al!  the  time  the 
stars  were  shining.  Many  of  them  blinked  as  if  the  wind 
crossed  them.  The  chief  lanterns  of  the  night,  however, 
burnt  steadily  in  the  blue  as  if  coldly  watching  the  ship 
(that  had  been  named  in  honor  of  one  of  the  brightest 
of  them)  beating  her  heart  out  against  the  attacking  winds 
and  seas. 

From  bad  to  worse  ;  from  a  full-rigged  ship  to  a  broken- 


258  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

masted,  ragged,  lame  thing  still  fighting  the  storm  ;  from 
a  sail-stripped  mutilated  carrier  of  men  and  goods,  to 
a  water-logged  hulk  ;  her  prow  a  fairy-like  figure,  however, 
with  a  golden  star  still  shining  on  its  smooth  forehead,  the 
only  part  of  the  doomed  ship  that  could  be  plainly  seen 
above  the  waves.  The  sculptor  who  designed  and  carved 
that  woman  with  the  proud  defiant  gaze,  might  have  been 
honestly  proud  if  he  could  have  seen  his  ideal  figure  rise 
every  now  and  then  and  breast  the  topmost  wave,  lifting  her 
bright  golden  star  into  the  very  face  of  the  night  and  await- 
ing eclipse  with  the  dignity  and  calm  of  the  sun  itself. 

When  at  last  the  storm  abated  ;  when  the  stars  went 
in  and  the  sun  came  out  ;  when  the  sea  was  calm  and 
smiling  as  it  is  on  sunny  days  in  the  Solent,  except  for 
a  wide  and  swelling  motion  that  might  be  taken  for  pride 
of  power  ;  when  the  winds  seemed  to  have  paused  to  listen 
for  the  cries  that  had  mingled  with  its  own  wild  shouts  of 
menace  and  destruction  ;  all  that  was  left  of  the  Morning 
Star  was  one  of  two  boats,  with  David  Keith  and  the  super- 
stitious Bristol  sailor  aboard.  The  captain  and  mate  went 
down  with  their  ship.  The  rest  of  the  crew  were  drowned 
by  the  foundering  of  the  first  boat  they  had  launched. 

David  and  Matt  White  of  the  Welsh  Back  were  the  only 
survivors  of  the  Morning  Star.  The  sun  looked  down  upon 
them  smilingly  ;  and  yet  they  were  without  meat  or  drink  or 
compass — two  famished  men  in  an  open  boat  on  the  North 
Atlantic. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"  WAS    LOST    AND    IS    FOUND  ;     WAS    DEAD    AND    IS     ALIVE 
AGAIN." 

ONE  of  the  sharpest  agonies  of  shipwrecked  men  afloat  is 
the  passing  of  ships  whose  lookout  they  have  been  unable 
to  attract.  The  morning  has  come  with  the  cry,  "  A  sail,  a 
sail  !  "  The  day  has  been  spent  in  making  signals.  The 
night  has  fallen  with  the  sea  once  more  a  watery  desert. 

David  Keith  and  his  companion,  Matt  White  of  the 
Welsh  Back,  had  no  means  of  signaling. 

They  had  neither  mast  nor  oar.  They  were  adrift  upon 
the  ocean  without  any  power  to  direct  or  control  their  boat. 
Matt  would  stand  up  now  and  then  and  wave  a  handkerchief. 

He  did  this,  however,  more  by  way  of  comforting  his 
companion  in  misfortune  than  with  any  hope  of  winning  the 
attention  of  anything  or  anybody  within  their  horizon  of 
vision.  Furthermore,  he  gave  David  the  benefit  of  his 
nautical  observations  as  to  their  latitude  and  longitude,  and 
by  the  help  of  his  knife  he  contrived  to  turn  one  of  the 
boat's  seats  into  a  rudder,  with  which  he  professed  to  steer, 
telling  David  that  all  they  had  to  do  was  to  keep  in  the 
track  of  ships. 

Matt  White  had,  however,  not  the  slightest  faith  in  the 
possibility  of  their  being  picked  up.  He,  nevertheless, 
encouraged  his  young  companion  to  hope,  for  he  argued,  as 
if  the  idea  had  only  just  occurred  to  any  human  being,  that 
while  there  was  life  a  man  had  no  right  to  despair. 

Matt  knew  he  was  doomed.  He  had  said  so  before  sail- 
ing. He  had  predicted  the  loss  of  the  Morning  Star.  It 


260  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

was  a  cruel  law  that  compelled  a  man  to  go  on  board  a 
doomed  ship.  What  were  omens  for  ?  he  argued.  They 
were  to  guide  the  mariner.  Why  did  cats  meet  a  man 
when  he  was  going  on  board,  and  why  did  pigs  also  give 
warning  ?  because  they  were  so  ordained  ;  and  as  for  a 
dream,  why  it  was  nothing  short  of  impiety  to  disregard  the 
forecast  of  a  voyage  when  it  was  accompanied  with  other 
signs  and  tokens  of  disaster.  But  there,  it  was  all  over,  the 
ship  had  gone,  the  captain  who  wouldn't  be  advised,  and 
the  mate  and  all  the  crew,  except  him  and  the  one  pas- 
senger ;  and  all  they  had  to  do  was  to  wait  God's  own  time 
and  hope  for  the  best. 

Not  exactly  in  these  words,  but  to  this  effect,  Matt  White 
communed  with  himself  while  David  slept  ;  and  curiously 
enough  the  lad  slept  for  many  hours  after  the  boat  began 
to  drift  away  from  the  scene  of  the  wreck.  On  the  other 
hand,  Matt  White  could  not  sleep  a  wink.  He  watched 
and  talked,  grew  hungry  and  a-thirst,  fancied  he  saw  sails 
when  the  sea  was  empty  of  them  as  his  own  hopes,  much  as 
he  pretended  to  the  contrary. 

The  sun  was  hot  all  day,  and  at  night  the  breeze  was 
sultry.  On  the  next  day  there  was  a  thunderstorm.  The 
sea  was  not  rough.  It  rose  and  fell  with  a  strange  uni- 
formity of  motion,  without  breaking.  The  rain  had  assuaged 
the  thirst  of  the  two  waifs  of  the  sea.  Matt  had  caught  it 
in  his  hands  and  laughed  over  it.  He  had  been  more  or 
less  feverish  from  the  first.  David  had  held  his  face  up  to 
the  great  tropic-like  drops,  and  was  refreshed. 

One  desire  satisfied,  then  came  hunger.  The  next  day 
was  burning  hot.  The  sun  seemed  to  fire  the  waters. 
There  was  no  stir  in  the  air.  Matt  said  another  storm  was 
brewing.  At  night  there  came  heavy  mist.  It  broke  now 
and  then  into  ghostly  forms.  David  awoke  feeling  faint 
and  weak.  He  tried  to  rise,  and  found  that  his  limbs  were 
stiff  and  painful.  Matt  was  always  busy,  whether  David 


"  WAS  LOST  AND  IS  FOUND."  261 

slept  or  not.  He  would  shade  his  eyes  with  his  hands  and 
look  out  into  the  night  just  as  he  did  when  he  could  see  in 
the  daytime.  Then  he  would  mumble  and  chuckle.  Once 
he  had  awakened  David  with  his  singing.  It  was  an  old 
sea-song  that  he  was  trying  to  remember,  ever  harking  back 
for  the  words,  and  always  chuckling  when  he  thought  he 
had  snatched  them  out  of  his  fading  memory. 

On  the  third  day  David  felt  as  if  he  were  dying,  so  weak, 
so  hopeless,  so  empty,  so  incapable  of  thought. 

He  lay  with  open  eyes  in  the  stern  of  the  boat  watching 
Matt,  who  was  in  a  raging  fever.  It  was  his  particular 
mania  in  these  last  hours  to  fancy  every  cloud  a  sail.  He 
hailed  them  with  cries  and  laughter.  He  thought  they 
signaled  him.  He  answered  them ;  he  shouted  the  name 
of  the  foundered  vessel  ;  at  least  he  thought  he  shouted  it ; 
but  his  voice  was  a  hoarse  whisper  ;  his  tongue  clove  to 
the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

After  an  hour  or  two  of  this  mad  exercise,  waving  his 
arms  and  answering  signals,  he  suddenly  flung  himself  into 
the  sea.  David  had  neither  the  strength  nor  the  inclina- 
tion to  attempt  his  rescue.  He  stared  vacantly  at  the 
empty  place  which  Matt  White  had  filled  a  moment  before, 
and  then  shut  his  eyes,  as  he  thought — if  he  thought  at  all 
— in  death.  He  remembered  no  more  until  he  found  him- 
self in  the  cabin  of  an  Italian  vessel  homeward  bound  for 
Venice. 

When  he  awoke  he  thought  he  was  in  Hartley's  Row  ; 
then  he  thought  he  was  on  the  Morning  Star  after  a  bad 
dream.  Trying  to  move  he  felt  his  body  stiff  and  sore. 
He  looked  round  the  cabin  and  noticed  that  there  was 
another  bunk  in  it,  and  that  by  his  side  were  medicine 
bottles,  and  wine  glasses,  and  a  soup  basin.  He  turned 
over  and  tried  to  collect  his  faculties.  The  effort  was  too 
much  for  him,  and  it  was  many  hours  before  he  again 
became  sensible  of  his  surroundings. 


262  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

It  was  one  of  these  curious  tricks  of  Fate  that  are 
common  enough,  however  startling  they  may  seem,  that 
Alan  Keith  should  have  been  sitting  on  the  quay  when  the 
captain  of  the  bark  Eldorado  walked  by  with  a  young 
fellow  leaning  upon  his  arm.  They  were  on  their  way  to  a 
certain  charitable  refuge  for  unfortunate  sailors,  the  boy 
being  no  other  than  Alan's  son,  whom  Father  Lavello  was 
moving  heaven  and  earth  to  find,  and  for  whom  the  released 
prisoner  of  Tafilet  had  begun  to  build  castles  in  the  air. 

Sitting  there  upon  the  quay  while  David  passed,  he  was 
apparently  watching  the  newly  moored  ship,  with  the  busy 
coming  and  going  of  sailors  and  merchants,  or  looking  out 
over  the  broad  lagoons  ;  but  in  reality  Alan  saw  none  of 
the  sights  that  lay  immediately  under  his  eyes,  heard  none 
of  the  various  sounds  all  about  him.  He  saw  a  grave  in 
the  bosom  of  the  forest  of  Heart's  Content ;  he  saw  several 
cairns  at  the  base  of  Demon's  Rock  :  he  saw  between  the 
outlet  of  the  cavern  and  the  log  hut  where  he  and  Predie 
and  his  companions  of  the  captured  Anne  of  Dartmouth 
had  whiled  away  the  winter,  a  certain  clump  of  trees  and 
rock  where  he  had  buried  his  own  honest  savings  apart 
from  the  plunder  of  the  St.  Dennis  and  other  prizes.  It 
was  some  half  recognized  instinct  of  honor  that  had  induced 
him  to  keep  his  own  money  apart  from  the  treasure  of  the 
crews  ;  it  might  have  been  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  fair 
play  with  the  view  to  the  ultimate  division  stipulated  for  in 
the  articles  of  agreement  between  him  and  his  men.  Some 
vague  idea  of  devoting  this  honest  gold  to  the  memory  of 
his  wife  may  have  influenced  him.  But  as  he  sat  on  this 
bright  winter's  day,  regardless  of  the  chill  air  that  came  in 
little  gusts  of  searching  wind  from  the  Adriatic,  apparently 
mucli  engrossed  in  the  Eldorado  or  the  shivering  lagoons, 
he  experienced  no  particular  feeling  in  regard  to  the  differ- 
ence between  the  treasures  in  Wilderness  Creek  and  the 
hidden  box  on  the  way  to  the  hut  with  its  natural  garden 


"  WAS  LOST  AND  IS  FOUND"  263 

of  berry  plants  and  flowers.  He  felt  a  craving  to  unearth 
the  strange  jumble  of  gold  and  precious  stones,  of  silver 
cups  and  golden  ornaments,  of  laces  and  silks,  and  other 
textiles,  embroideries,  and  strange  spices. 

His  memory  carried  him  back  with  singular  clearness, 
and  considering  all  that  had  happened,  he  had  not  the  re- 
motest doubt  that  he  was  the  sole  inheritor  of  the  secret 
treasure. 

Once  a  transient  shadow  of  fear  crossed  his  mind  in  the 
form  of  Lester  Bentz,  and  even  in  his  present  penitential 
mood  he  wished  he  had  killed  him.  At  the  same  time  he 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  Bentz  could  not  possibly  have 
known  of  the  hiding  of  the  treasure,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  making  them  part  of  the  dead,  giving  them  memorials 
of  mortality,  was  a  sufficient  disguise  for  all  time,  apart 
from  the  inaccessibility  of  the  spot  and  the  superstitious 
dread  which  belonged  to  Nasquappe  and  Demon's  Rock. 

"  My  son,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  wandered  homewards, 
taking  the  narrow,  unfrequented  ways  of  the  city,  and  paus- 
ing now  and  then  to  exchange  some  curious  or  friendly  greet- 
ing, "  my  son  David,  it  is  time  ye  came  for  your  inheritance  ; 
I  canna  live  much  longer ;  I  feel  ghostly  warnin's,  noo  that 
I  hae  made  my  peace  wi'  Almighty  God  and  his  Blessed 
Son,  it's  like  I  may  be  caa'd  at  ony  moment ;  it's  borne 
in  upon  my  distracted  mind  that  I'll  see  thee  soon,  and  I 
ken  thy  face,  my  dear,  as  wee!  as  if  I'd  seen  it  a'  my  days  ; 
I  hae  seen  it  i'  the  spirit,  thy  mither  leadin'  thee  by  the 
hand  and  sayin'  in  her  ain  sweet  hevanely  voice,  '  Alan,  love, 
this  is  David,  our  dear  son  !  '  "  That  night  in  his  dreams 
Alan  saw  his  wife  and  son  again,  and  this  time  David 
was  no  longer  wet  with  the  damps  and  weeds  of  the  sea. 

A  strange  unrest  took  possession  of  him  after  this.  He 
wandered  forth  into  the  cold  night,  took  Atilio's  boat  and 
rowed  himself  down  the  Grand  Canal,  and  let  the  wind  toss 
him  upon  the  waves  of  the  incoming  tide  away  past  the 


264  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

quay  where  the  Eldorado  was  lying  and  out  upon  the 
lagoons  towards  the  Lido.  The  thunder  of  the  Adriatic 
beating  upon  the  sandy  barriers  within  which  slept  the  ocean 
city,  recalled  to  him  the  rollers  of  the  Atlantic  outside  the 
harbor  of  Wilderness  Creek. 

It  was  on  the  next  day  that  the  English  consul,  who  had 
taken  an  interest  in  Father  Lavello's  inquiries,  called  upon 
him  at  his  temporary  lodging  in  Venice,  to  acquaint  him  with 
the  landing  of  a  young  Englishman  who  said  his  name  was 
David  Keith,  and  that  he  had  been  picked  up  in  an  open 
boat  on  the  homeward  voyage  of  the  Eldorado,  famished  with 
cold  and  hunger,  and  for  a  time  thought  to  be  dead.  He 
had,  however,  survived  his  terrible  privations,  and  was  now 
in  kindly  hands  at  the  sailors'  retreat  near  the  Arsenal. 

Father  Lavello  went  at  once  to  investigate  this  informa- 
tion, which  seemed  to  him  nothing  short  of  miraculous, 
though,  to  be  sure,  it  might  have  chanced  that  some  other 
ship  had  picked  up  the  lad  and  taken  him  to  some  other 
part.  The  consul  said  something  noble  in  the  aspect  of 
the  young  fellow,  despite  his  miserable  plight,  had  stimulated 
the  usually  benevolent  sentiments  of  sailors  toward  any  un- 
fortunate victim  of  the  sea ;  and  for  himself  he  was  bound 
to  say  that  he  also  was  much  impressed  by  the  lad's  hand- 
some face  and  dignified  figure. 

They  had  dressed  him  in  sailor  garb,  something  between 
a  pirate  and  a  blue-jacket,  and  the  highest  compliment  they 
could  pay  him  was  to  say  that  he  was  the  beau  ideal  of  an 
Italian  youth,  his  hair  black,  his  eyes  dark  and  soft,  his  face 
of  an  olive  complexion,  and  his  form  as  lithe  as  that  of  a 
young  fawn.  A  Moravian  from  the  Lido  who  visited  the 
house  of  charity  said  he  was  worthy  to  be  the  hero  of  a  poem 
by  their  great  and  learned  Byron,  who  some  years  previously 
had  lived  among  them,  glorifying  their  language  and  wor- 
shiping Venice. 

Perhaps  the  Moravian  found  an  added  beauty  in  David 


"  WAS  LOST  AND  IS  FOUND."  265 

for  the  reason  that  the  young  fellow  was  a  Protestant,  and 
while  respectful  to  the  priests,  let  them  understand  that  he 
and  his  were  of  the  Reformed  faith.  But  Father  Lavello 
found  the  boy  tolerant  and  gentle,  the  more  so  when  he  in- 
formed him  that  he  had  known  his  mother  and  father,  had 
confessed  them  in  the  days  of  their  courtship,  and  blessed 
them  at  the  altar  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  when  they 
became  man  and  wife. 

"  That  is,"  said  the  cure\  "  if  you  are,  as  I  make  no  doubt, 
the  son  of  Alan  and  Hannah  Keith,  of  Heart's  Delight." 

"  So  far  as  I  know,"  said  David.  "  I  am.  Miss  Mumford, 
who  nursed  me  and  carried  me  to  England,  told  me  so,  and 
I  was  on  my  way  to  Newfoundland  to  claim  my  patrimony 
when  I  was  wrecked." 

"  Indeed  ;  you  had  some  special  authority  ?  " 

"  The  authority  of  the  trustees  under  the  will  of  my 
grandfather,  David  Plympton." 

"Yes?" 

"  Proved,  I  believe,  in  the  courts  by  my  chief,  Mr. 
Waveny  Petherick  of  Yarmouth." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  priest,  "  with  whom  you  were  articled  to 
the  law." 

"  You  seem  to  know  me  well,"  said  David,  smiling.  "  It 
is  strange  to  be  shipwrecked  and  brought  into  Venice  to 
meet  one  who  knew  my  parents,  and  who  has  knowledge  of 
me  also." 

"It  is,"  said  the  priest,  "and  who,  until  lately,  had  kept 
trace  of  you  and  your  record  for  the  sake  of  the  old  days 
when  you  were  an  infant,  and  your  father  and  mother  were 
members  of  his  flock.  Strange  !  Yes,  the  ways  of  God 
are  strange  to  mortal  man  ;  the  prayers  of  your  saintly 
mother  have  been  heard,  her  intercession  has  borne  fruit, 
for  the  Almighty  Father  is  no  respecter  of  persons  where 
the  holy  intercession  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  obtained,  and 
her  voice  can  prevail  even  though  the  sinner  be  Protestant 


266  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

and  outside  the  pale.  Nay,  my  son,  spare  me  thy  answer. 
Let  us  give  Almighty  God  thanks  for  this  miracle  of  thy 
preservation." 

David  felt  himself  subdued  by  the  earnest  words  and 
manner  of  the  priest,  only  venturing  to  remark  that  he 
hoped  he  had  been  spared  for  some  good  work  in  the 
world. 

"  A  pious  and  worthy  ambition,"  said  the  priest,  "arid  be 
sure  it  is  so  ;  your  future  shall  be  remarkable  for  good  ;  for 
you  have  been  miraculously  saved,  and  for  such  a  meeting, 
in  this  city  of  marvels,  as  your  wildest  dreams  can  hardly  , 
have  forecasted.  That  you  are  a  Protestant,  and  desire  it 
to  be  so  known,  argues  a  certain  piety  ;  it  is  the  man  of  no 
religion,  the  infidel,  the  scoffer,  for  whose  soul  the  Church 
is  most  solicitous.  You  have  prayed  to  God  ?  You  have 
thanked  God  for  your  deliverance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,"  said  David,  catching 
something  of  the  religious  tone  of  the  priest's  manner  ; 
"  surely  the  worst  of  God's  creatures  would  have  done  that, 
had  he  been  raised  from  the  dead  as  I  have  been,  for  my  pres- 
ervation almost  amounts  to  that.  The  doctor  said  so  only 
yesterday  when  we  parted  ;  and,  in  truth,  when  I  last  shut 
my  eyes  in  that  boat  at  sea,  it  was  to  die,  and  when  I  awoke, 
it  was  as  if  I  had  been  dead  and  had  come  to  life  again." 

"  Was  lost  and  is  found,  was  dead  and  is  alive  again," 
said  the  priest. 

"  I  wish  your  reference  applied  in  full  to  my  case,  sir," 
said  David,  "  even  though  I  should  be  called  a  prodigal  and 
had  herded  with  swine." 

"  Who  shall  say  what  a  merciful  and  all-seeing  God  may 
not  have  in  store  for  you  !  I  am  surely  his  messenger  to 
you  in  this  miraculous  deliverance.  Are  you  strong  enough 
to  receive  tidings  of  as  great  joy  as  that  of  your  own  deliver- 
ance to  those  who  shall  learn  of  it  when  most  they  think 
you  lost  ?  Your  foster-mother,  for  example." 


"WAS  LOST  AND  IS  FO UND. "  267 

"  And  the  girl  who  is  betrothed  to  me,"  said  David, 
"  they  will  hear  of  the  loss  of  the  Morning  Star,  and  it  will 
break  their  hearts." 

"  We  must  take  means  to  acquaint  them  of  your  safety," 
said  the  cure,  "  I  will  obtain  the  aid  of  the  English  consul 
for  that  purpose  without  delay." 

"  Thank  you,  oh,  thank  you,"  said  David,  more  deeply 
moved  than  he  had  yet  shown  himself. 

"  You  are  very  young  to  marry  ?  "  said  the  priest. 
"  When  one  loves  sincerely,  and  Ehnira's  father  is  willing, 
and  my  foster-mother  approves,  and  Mr.  Waveny  Petherick 
does  not  object,  and  one  can  provide  a  home,  a  year  one 
way  or  the  other  is  no  serious  matter  ?  " 

David  made  this  statement  rather  in  the  way  of  asking  a 
question  than  propounding  a  decision. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  the  cure,  "  since  you  are  so  far 
pledged,  let  us  hope  there  can  be  no  other  objection." 

"  What  a  blessing  it  is  that  my  London  trustee  sailed 
before  me,  or  rather  not  in  the  Morning  Star.  He  was  to 
prepare  the  way  for  my  coming,  and  meet  the  Morning'JStar 
at  Halifax." 

"It  cannot  be  but  the  Divine  hand  is  strongly  in  all  this," 
said  the  cure  ;  "  but  you  did  not  answer  me  ?  Are  you 
strong  enough  to  receive  a  further  shock,  not  an  unhappy 
one,  but  a  shock  ;  I  am  something  of  a  physician,  let  me 
see." 

He  took  David's  hand  and  felt  his  pulse  ;  "  We  must  not 
put  you  back  into  a  fever.  A  little  rest  and  I  will  come  to 
you  again." 

"  I  am  strong  enough  for  anything,  sir,"  said  David, 
"have  no -fear  for  me;  I  think  I  have  passed  a  physical 
examination  that  should  answer  for  me.  You  have  some- 
thing strange  to  tell  me,  something  you  are  anxious  to  dis- 
close, what  is  it  ?" 

David  drew  himself  up  and  faced  the  priest,  recalling  to 


268  UNDER   THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Father  Lavello  the  figure  of  the  settler  who,  in  the  stormy 
days  of  Heart's  Delight,  defied  Admiral  Ristack,  and 
softened  only  at  thought  of  his  saintly  wife,  the  rose  of  that 
desert  by  the  sea. 

"  I  will  take  you  at  your  word.  Put  this  cloak  about  you 
and  come  with  me." 

The  cure"  took  up  a  cloak  that  was  hanging  upon  the  wall 
and  they  went  out  together. 

"The  air  is  chilly,"  said  the  priest, "  it  is  not  always  sum- 
mer, even  in  Venice." 

He  beckoned  for  a  gondola.  David  took  a  seat  in  the 
gloomy-looking  boat.  The  priest  following,  directed  the 
solitary  gondolier  to  the  Turkish  Palace,  and  sat  silently 
contemplating  the  water  and  the  procession  of  buildings 
with  their  vistas  of  back  canals,  and  collecting  his  thoughts 
for  the  coming  interview  of  father  and  son. 

Alan  Keith  sat  smoking  in  his  decayed  yet  palatial  room. 
He  had  folded  his  long  gaberdinish  coat  about  him  ;  round 
his  neck  was  loosely  wrapped  a  crimson  silk  scarf.  He  was 
sitting  in  a  tall  armchair  that  had  an  elaborately  carved 
back.  At  his  elbow  was  a  small  table  upon  which  lay  an 
open  book.  The  room  was  large,  with  pillars  and  a  vesti- 
bule at  one  end,  and  an  alcove-bed  at  the  other,  where  Alan 
was  sitting.  The  walls  were  gay  with  the  colors  of  half- 
defaced  frescoes.  There  were  heavy  tapestried  portieres 
over  the  doorways  ;  and  small  windows  here  and  there 
blinded  with  dust.  The  marble  floor  was  in  lovely  tone 
from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  and  it  was  covered  here  and 
there  with  mats  and  rugs. 

"  Alan,"  said  the  priest,  having  bidden  David  remain 
within  shadow  of  the  vestibule,  "  our  prayers  and  the  inter- 
cession of  your  saintly  wife  with  the  Holy  Mother  of  God 
have  prevailed." 

Alan  turned  his  bright  eyes  toward  the  priest  as  if  invit- 
ing further  speech. 


"  WAS  LOST  AND  IS  FOUND."  269 

"  Be  calm,  dear  friend,"  was  the  cure's  response. 

"  I  am  calm,"  said  Alan,  laying  down  his  long  pipe. 
"What  is  it?" 

"  God  has  sent  your  son  to  Venice,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Praised  be  His  holy  name  ! "  Allan  replied. 

The  priest  stepped  back  to  beckon  David,  who  came 
forward. 

"  This  is  your  father,"  said  the  priest. 

"  David,  I  expected  you,"  said  the  father,  controlling 
himself  with  a  mighty  effort,  but  only  for  a  moment.  "I 
expected  you  ! " 

David  looked  at  his  father,  and  a  sharp  cry  of  surprise 
escaped  him. 

u  Oh,  my  God  ! "  Alan  exclaimed,  stepping  toward  the 
boy  and  opening  his  arms.  David  burst  into  tears  and 
buried  his  face  in  the  old  man's  neck. 

Father  Lavelio  stealthily  withdrew. 

Alan  rocked  the  tall  fellow  in  his  arms  and  crooned  in  a 
pathetic  way  over  him  for  some  moments,  and  then  thrust 
him  apart  to  gaze  upon  him. 

"  My  dear  David,  my  son,  my  ain  son,  what  a  miracle  ! 
After  a'  these  heart-breakin'  years,  to  see  ye  in  the  flesh,  to 
hear  your  voice  !  Eh,  man,  but  I  haena  heard  your  voice. 
Speak  to  me,  David." 

"  Father,"  said  the  lad. 

"  Aye,  but  gae  on  ;  tell  me  where  ye  hae  come  frae  ;  talk 
to  me  !  I  hae  hard  work  to  keep  mysel'  frae  yellin'  oot 
like  a  maniac." 

"Sit  down,  father,"  said  David,  "and  calm  yourself." 

"  Don't  leave  me,  lad  !  "  exclaimed  Alan  ;  "  where's  your 
mither?  Hannah,  ye  hae  brought  him  hame,  but  ye  hae 
left  us  !  " 

Alan  sat  down  in  his  chair  again,  still  keeping  David's 
hand  ki  his. 

David  looked  round  the  room,  and  felt  too  as  if  he  might 


270  UNDER  THE  Gft'EAT  SEAL. 

have  lost  his  senses,  as  if  he  had  eaten  of  the  insane  root,  so 
many  strange  things  had  happened  to  him  since  he  went  by 
coach  -to  Bristol  and  took  his  berth  on  board  the  Morning 
Star. 

"Forgie  me,  David,  if  I  amna  quite  mysel'.  Ye  see  your 
sainted  mither  has  brought  ye  to  me  sae  often  in  my  dreams 
that  it  seems  as  if  she  too  might  be  here,  though  I  ken 
weel  enough  she's  dead  and  buried  years  and  years  agone. 
Nae,  lad,  I'll  be  mysel'  in  a  minute." 

The  gaunt  figure  once  more  rose  up  and  stood  by  the 
side  of  the  young  lithe  waif  of  the  sea. 

"  Tak  houd  o'  my  airm  ;  let  us  walk  about  and  pinch 
oorsel's  and  be  sure  we  are  awake,"  he  said,  pulling  the  boy's 
arm  within  his  own  and  pacing  the  apartment  with  him. 

"  Ye  think  me  a  strange  father  ;  some  o'  these  foolish 
kind  folk  in  this  city  call  me  the  mad  Englishman  ;  I'm 
nae  mad,  David,  though  I  might  hae  been  excused  for  such 
a  fa',  considerin'  what  I  hae  gane  through.  I'm  neither 
mad  nor  poor,  David  ;  ye  shall  find  I'm  rich,  my  son,  rich, 
far  mair  than  even  Lavello  dreams  ;  I  hae  been  waiting  to 
tell  ye  ;  I  hae  toud  them  nought,  Lavello  kens  a  little,  but 
it's  nought  to  what  I  hae  got  to  tell  ye,  David  !  But  ye 
look  faint,  ye  arena  strong,  we'll  hae  some  food  and 
drink.  Hallo,  there,  Atilio,  Terese.  We'll  kill  the  fatted 
calf,  David  ;  we'll  open  our.  best  wine — we'll  drink  and  be 
merry — was  lost  and  is  found — was  dead  and  is  alive  again." 

Once  more  overcome  with  excitement,  Alan  staggered 
back  to  his  seat,  and  David  soothed  him  with  filial  words 
of  comfort. 

"  I'm  just  an  auld  fool,"  said  Alan  presently.  "  I 
thought  I  was  what  the  priest  ca's  a  stoic,  and  I'm  just  an 
auld  fool.  David,  sit  ye  doon,  and  feel  ye  are  at  hame,  and 
I'll  just  mak  an  effort  to  be  mysel'.  Eh,  but  it's  sae  lang 
sin'  I  had  ye  for  a  son.  It  just  drives  me  wild  to  think  o'  it." 

The  gondolier  and  his  wife  came  running  in. 


"WAS  LOST  AND  IS  FOUND."  271 

"  Quick,"  said  Alan,  "  food  and  wine  ;  all  ye've  got ;  the 
fatted  calf — the  best  of  everything  ;  this  is  my  son." 

He  rose  up  with  a  haughty  wave  of  his  bony  hand  as  he 
made  this  declaration. 

The  Italian  servants  expressed  their  surprise  and  delight. 
Terese  said  the  young  signor  was  as  tall  as  his  father. 
The  gondolier  told  David  that  his  father  was  the  kindest 
man  in  the  world.  Terese  added  that  dinner  was  nearly 
ready  and  proceeded  with  Atilio's  assistance  to  drag  forth 
a  table  near  the  stove  and  began  to  lay  the  cloth.  Father 
Lavello,  as  the  servants  withdrew,  thought  it  a  happy  mo- 
ment to  return. 

"  Eh,  man,"  said  Alan,  "  ye're  just  in  time.  Let  me  in- 
troduce ye — David,  my  son,  this  is  my  good  friend  and 
confessor,  Father  Lavello,  wha  kenned  ye  when  ye  were 
just  a  baby." 

For  the  moment  Alan  had  forgotten  that  it  was  the  priest 
who  had  brought  his  son  to  him. 

"  My  dear  David  Keith,"  said  the  cure,  "  I  congratulate 
you  upon  this  happy  meeting." 

"But  I'm  forgeting,"  said  Alan,  "and  ye  maun  forgie 
me,  for  I'm  a  leetle  beside  mysel'  ;  it  was  you,  dear  friend, 
who  found  him,  you  who  have  been  God's  instrument  of 
kindness  in  a'  this.  Forgive  me.  David,  I'd  nivver  a  seen 
ye  again  but  for  Father  Lavello." 

"  The  good  father  came  to  me  at  the  Home,  where  the 
captain  secured  me  a  lodging,"  said  David,  "  and  has 
earned  my  eternal  gratitude." 

"  Here's  the  dinner,"  said  Alan,  as  the  servants  came  in 
with  some  smoking  dishes.  "  Father  Lavello,  this  is  the 
feast,  nae,  I  vvinna  say  for  the  prodigal  son,  I'll  just  say 
for  the  prodigal  father  ;  and  I  \vish  it  was  a  better  repast  ; 
but  we'll  make  up  for  it  in  the  choicest  Chianti.  Come 
noo,  let's  fa'  to.  I  ken  this  lost  and  is  foond,  God  bless 
him,  is  both  a-hungered  and  a-thirst." 


272  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

Father  Lavello  asked  a  blessing  upon  the  feast ;  and  the 
three  fell  to  heartily. 

During  the  meal,  David,  responding  to  his  father's  ques- 
tions, gave  him  some  particulars  of  his  life,  and  his  adven- 
tures in  the  Morning  Star.  Although  he  had  spoken  of 
Elmira  to  the  priest  he  made  no  mention  of  her  over  dinner. 
Something  made  him  pause  when  her  name  was  on  his 
tongue.  He  felt  as  if  the  declaration  of  his  engagement 
was  now  a  matter  to  be  privately  mentioned  to  his  father. 
Alan  drew  from  the  cure"  stories  of  their  past  experiences 
of  Newfoundland,  and  Alan  himself  talked  of  Heart's 
Delight,  and  wondered  what  it  was  like  after  all  those 
years  ! 

He  was  much  interested  when  David  spoke  of  Miss 
Mumford,  and  Alan  thereafter  repeated,  not  without  some 
bitterness,  the  story  of  his  capture,  and  Pat  Doolan's 
account,  related  to  him  long  afterward,  of  his  rescue  of 
Sally  and  Baby  David  from  the  king's  buccaneering  law- 
powerful  scoundrels.  He  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork  and 
listened  with  eyes  and  ears  to  David's  account  of  Sally's 
home  and  Petherick's  office  ;  and  every  now  and  then, -in  a 
kind  of  stage  aside,  when  Father  Lavello  was  most  engaged 
with  his  meat  and  wine,  he  would  say  to  his  son,  "Bide  a 
wee,  my  son,  just  bide  a  wee,  and  I'll  tell  ye  a  story  that'll 
make  the  blood  dance  in  your  young  veins  ;  bide  a  wee.' 
David  would  nod  knowingly  in  return,  falling  in  with  his 
father's  humor,  and  putting  his  warning  promise  down  to 
the  upset  of  their  meeting. 

But  David  had  by  no  means  taken  the  measure  of  his 
father,  Alan  Keith  ;  nor  had  Father  Lavello,  his  friend 
and  confessor.  In  all  his  dreams,  during  all  his  confes- 
sions, not  in  any  single  narrative  of  adventure,  nor  when 
most  he  appeared  to  be  unburdening  himself,  had  the  mad 
Englishman  of  Venice  disclosed  the  secret  of  the  buried 
treasure  of  Wilderness  Creek. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  ALWAYS   TO-MORROW." 

IT  was  with  closed  doors  and  in  secret  that  Alan  Keith 
confided  to  his  son,  David,  the  mysteries  of  Wilderness 
Creek. 

The  gondolier  Atilio  and  his  wife  Terese  were  a-bed. 
Father  Lavello  had  gone  home  to  his  snug  quarters  at 
Verona.  David  had  been  allotted  a  corner  of  his  father's, 
apartment.  Terese  had  made  up  a  snug  bed  for  him  with 
a  curtain  round  it.  The  Turkish  custodian  was  dreaming 
on  his  couch  in  a  niche  of  his  own  private  chamber  over- 
looking the  quadrangle. 

Alan  and  David  were  keeping  themselves  warm  with 
wine  and  tobacco.  Winter  is  of  such  short  duration  in 
Venice  that  a  fire  is  a  luxury  but  little  known.  The  Ger- 
man stove  and  the  open  grate  are  innovations  of  the  present 
day.  Furs,  cushions,  wraps,  and  among  the  old  and  poor 
the  scaldini,  were  almost  the  only  protection  against  the 
cold.  David  and  Alan  sat  with  their  feet  upon  a  couple  of 
large  cushions,  that  neutralized  the  chill  of  the  marble 
floor.  Wise  people  who  feared  the  cold  were  in  bed,  or 
huddled  together  in  some  cafe  where  animal  heat,  a  few 
lamps,  and  the  absence  of  ventilation  kept  the  topers  warm. 

Handsome  even  in  decay  was  the  spacious  room  where 
David  listened  With  awe  and  wonder  to  such  parts  of  his 
father's  story  as  Alan  thought  well  to  narrate.  Two  or 
three  sconces  on  the  wall  with  long-wicked  candles  flick- 
ered upon  frescoed  panels  and  deepened  the  shadows  of 
recesses  and  cupboards.  There  were  no  lights  in  the  old 
bronze  chandelier  that  swung  from  the  painted  ceiling,  but 


274  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

the  table  held  an  oil  lamp,  a  tall  flagon  of  wine,  pen,  ink, 
and  paper,  a  Dutch  tobacco  box  of  embossed  silver,  which 
the  Turk  had  lent  his  lodger-guest,  one  or  two  Nuremburg 
goblets,  a  glass  flask  of  Chianti,  and  other  things  in  artistic 
disorder. 

Alan  sat  facing  his  son,  who  found  it  a  special  comfort  to 
smoke.  It  soothed  his  nerves  and  helped  him  to  keep  his 
countenance  and  hold  his  tongue.  More  than  once  he  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  his  father  was  mad  ;  all  through 
his  intercourse  with  him  he  was  fascinated  by  the  old  man's 
remarkable  personality. 

"  I  question  if  I  hae  been  strectly  reight  in  keepin'  a' 
this  back  in  confession,"  said  Alan,  "  but  I  am  nae  reightly 
a  true  Catholic,  havtn'  been  brought  up  i'  the  Protestant 
faith,  sae  I  mun  get  Father  Lavello's  forgiveness  on  that 
account ;  he's  a  generous  priest,  and  besides  we'll  gie  the 
Church  somethin'  to  mak  absolution  easy." 

"  There's  no  effectual  confession  that  is  not  made  to  our 
Father  which  art  in  Heaven,"  said  David,  quoting  uncon- 
sciously from  Mildred  Hope,  "  and  no  person  between  the 
sinner  and  his  God  can  help  him  except  the  interceder, 
Christ,  Our  Lord." 

"  Ye've  ta'en  to  religion  then,  David  ?"  said  his  father 
interrogatively,  while  filling  his  long  quaint  pipe  from  the 
Turk's  silver  tobacco  jar. 

"T  don't  profess  much  in  that  way,"  said  David,  "but 
Miss  Mumford  has  a  friend  who  talks  religion  to  us,  and 
my  rescue  from  the  sea  has  made  me  feel  that  her  prayers 
and  God's  goodness  may  be  the  reason  why  I  am  sitting 
here  at  this  time."  - 

"  Aye  lad,  you're  reight,  and  what  a  mercy  it  is  !  We 
needna  mak  a  theological  discussion  o'  that,  David  ;  as 
for  sects  and  denomenations  and  the  like,  your  mither 
belonged  to  that  other  church,  sae  I  tuk  up  wi'  it  because 
she  was  mair  to  me,  David,  than  a*  the  churches  on  airth. 


"ALWAYS   TO-MORROW."  275 

And  the  last  I  ken  o'  her  when  she  waur  happiest,  she  was 
just  pressin'  you  to  her  breast.  It's  a  lang  time  to  luke 
forward  frae  your  age  to  mine,  but  to  luke  back — weel 
they  say  truly  when  they  say  life's  just  a  span.  Man,  it's 
nae  mair  than  a  day  to  luke  back  upon,  a  butterfly's  day,  a 
bit  o'  sun,  and  then  storm  and  stress,  old  age  and  death. 
The  sun  is  for  you,  David.  And  by  the  might  o'  bonnie 
Scotland,  ye  shall  hae  it.  Your  path  shall  be  paved  wi' 
goud  an  grouted  in  wi'  precious  stones.  It  shall,  my  laddie, 
it  shall  !  " 

Alan  laid  down  his  pipe  and  paced  the  room.  The  tapes- 
tried portiere  stirred  as  if  with  the  action,  but  it  was  the 
wind  that  had  crept  though  crevice  and  doorway  to  moan 
and  tell  of  the  chiUs  without. 

"Wad  to  heaven,"  the  old  man  went  on,  "ye  might  find 
some  o'  the  brood  o'  Ristack  and  Ruddock  and  Bentz  to 
get  your  hand  on  their  throats,  to  trample  on  them,  to 
grind  them,  to  tear  them  down,  them  and  their  household 
gods  and — nae,  but  I  maun  forget  a'  that.  I  hae  had  my 
revenge  ;  the  Lord  delivered  my  enemies  into  my  hands, 
and  I  smote  them,  hip  and  thigh." 

The  remembrance  of  the  capture  of  the  Anne  of  Dart- 
mouth ignited  long  slumbering  fires.  Alan  laughed  a  wild 
laugh  that  stirred  the  sleep  of  the  Turk  in  his  mattressed 
niche.  He  uttered  a  prayer  to  Allah  and  went  off  again 
into  dreams  and  forgetfulness. 

"  Down,  ye  imp  of  hell  !  Aye,  but  I  made  ye  lick  the 
dust !  And  your  rear  admiral,  how  he  crackled  and 
spluttered  in  the  fire.  But  God  hae  mercy  on  me  !  I  had 
repented  o'  a'  that ;  and  the  gude  priest  had  granted  me 
absolution  and  rest  !  " 

He  paused,  looked  round  and  saw  David,  who  was  watch- 
ing him,  fearing  he  had  gone  mad. 

"  Forgive  me,  David,  my  son,  I  amna  mysel'  once  now 
and  again,  and  it's  hard  to  realize  that  ye  can  be  here  by 


276  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

my  side  ;  nae,  dinna  think  I'm  daft.  Eh,  but  I  hae  suffered 
sae,  it  wouldna  be  surprisin'  if  I  were  ;  it's  just  wonderfu" 
I'm  as  rational  as  I  am." 

He  sat  down  by  the  stove,  took  up  his  pipe,  and  laid  his 
right  hand  upon  David's  head. 

"It's  over,  laddie;  it  was  just  a  fit  o'  keen  remembrance; 
it's  over,  I  find  it  hard  to  be  sure  I  amna  dreamin'  a*  the 
time  ;  your  saintly  mither  sat  by  me  i'  the  dungeon  as  ye 
are  sitting  now,  and — but  there,  she  was  just  a  spirit,  I 
never  touched  her  hand  as  I  touch  yours,  and  naebody  else 
saw  her,  only  me,  David,  only  me." 

David  took  his  father's  hand,  remarking,  "  I  am  flesh  and 
blood,  father ;  there's  no  mistake  about  me  ;  but  I  can 
understand  your  fancying  strange  things  ;  I  do  myself  ;  I 
wake  in  the  night  shivering  in  that  boat  at  sea,  with  poor 
old  Matt  White,  of  the  Welsh  Back,  signaling  imaginary 
sails.  Take  another  cup  of  wine,  father,  and  let  me  give 
you  a  light." 

David  passed  the  flagon  of  Chianti,  and  lighted  a  spill 
at  the  smoldering  fire,  and  Alan  smiling  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  sent  the  blue  wreaths  of  smoke  up  into  the  shadows  of 
the  painted  ceiling. 

"  That's  a'  reight !  Noo,  David,  look  at  this  ;  it's  a  bit 
o'  the  map  o'  North  America,  showing  the  coast  o'  New- 
foundland to  Labrador ;  I  tore  it  frae  a  chart  I  bought  i' 
the  Square  a  week  or  twa  back." 

He  laid  upon  the  table  a  strip  of  paper,  and  held  over  it 
a  small  hand  lamp  that  might  have  lighted  an  ancient  doge 
to  read  his  missal,  so  quaint  and  old  was  it,  and  yet  so 
fitting  to  the  bony  hand  of  Alan  Keith,  so  much  in  keeping 
was  it  with  his  glittering  eyes,  his  long  face,  and  his 
picturesque  robes. 

"  The  names  are  in  Italian,  but  I  hae  marked  the  points 
in  English,  sae  that  in  case  we  are  not  destined  to  complete 
our  voyage  together,  ye  may  find  your  way  alone.  Here, 


^ALWAYS   TO-MORROW."  277 

ye  see,  is  St.  John's, — this,  by  the  way,  is  Halifax — from 
St.  John's,  ye  ken,  running  north  here  is  the  coast  line  ; 
here  is  Heart's  Delight." 

He  paused  as  his  long  forefinger  rested  at  the  point  he 
had  especially  marked,  and  heaved  a  sigh  that  almost 
brought  the  tears  to  David's  eyes. 

"  At  the  back  o'  Heart's  Delight,"  went  on  the  old  man, 
reseating  himself,  and  putting  the  lamp  on  the  table,  David 
standing  by  his  side,  "  is  Heart's  Content,  or  was  ;  and  there, 
beneath  the  tamarack,  lie  your  sainted  mither  and  our  auld 
dog  Sampson,  wha  thought  he  was  just  as  strong  and  cap- 
able as  I  was,  but  he  kenned  nought  aboot  the  overwhelmin' 
numbers  and  the  knife  that  awaited  him  ;  I'll  show  ye  the 
spot,  please  God  ;  but  I  maunna  waste  time  wi'  these  things, 
the  mair  sae  that  they  tear  at  my  heart  and  disable  my  mind. 
The  past  is  deed  sae  far  that  we  canna  bring  it  back,  the 
future  is  for  the  young,  it  is  for  you,  David.  Noo,  follow 
my  finger  ;  ye  see  a'  this  stretch  o'  coast ;  for  miles  it  might 
be  just  a  vast  sea-wall  built  by  God  himself,  with  sneakin1 
rocks  runnin'  out  into  the  open  that  the  de'il  might  hae 
planted  to  trap  unwary  mariners.  And  sae  ye  see  it  goes 
broken  now  and  then  by  gaps,  and  then  risin'  again  into 
lofty  capes  wi'  their  extremities  seawards  to  mark  the  en- 
trance to  the  great  bays,  Conception,  Trinity,  Bonavista, 
and  Notre  Dame.  We  cross  them,  d'ye  see,  and  come  to 
the  northern  headland  ;  ye'll  mind  the  scenery  here  the 
longest  day  ye  live,  rock  o'  every  imaginable  shape,  jagged, 
pointed,  tall,  short,  wi'  mighty  precipices — keep  clear  o' 
them,  gie  them  a  wide  berth.  This  point  I  hae  marked 
strong  is  Cape  Bauld,  the  northern  point  of  Quirpon,  four 
degrees  north  o'  St.  John's.  When  the  sun  has  loosened 
the  icy  cables  that  haud  them,  the  icebergs  o'  the  frozen 
north  come  sailing  down  here  through  the  Straits  o'  Belle 
Isle.  That's  Belle  Isle,  d'ye  mark,  barren,  desolate  ;  the 
cauld  air  filled,  they  say,  wi'  cries  o'  demons  and  fiends,  wi' 


2?8  UNDER    THE   GREAT  SEAL. 

deevils  rampant  and  the  like;  but  that's  an  auld  wife's  tale, 
there  are  nae  demons  sae  wicked  and  hellish  as  man  ;  I  hae 
stood  on  the  wild  shores  a'  Belle  Isle  i'  the  neight,  and 
heard  nought  but  the  wind  and  the  breakers,  wi'  once 
and  again  the  cries  o'  neight  birds  and  wild  animals. 
Ssh  !  " 

The  pioneer  of  Labrador  looked  round  the  room  and  laid 
a  hand  upon  David's  shoulder. 

"  Ssh  !  Ye  see  the  point  here ;  larbqard  o'  the  Isle  ? 
Ye  do  !  Weel,  that's  Nasquappe  Point ;  you  see  the  spots 
and  scratches  runnin'  frae  it  seaward.  Weel,  that  is  the 
course  to  Wilderness  Creek — the  impossible  course  to  all 
but  ye  and  me,  David.  Ye  see  the  promontory  that  rises 
to  the  east  of  Nasquappe,  that's  Demon's  Rock,  the  guardian 
o'  oor  secret  harbor." 

He  took  from  a  deep  pocket  beneath  his  girdle  another 
scrap  of  paper  which  he  opened  and  laid  before  his  son. 

"This  is  a  sailing  chart  ;  it  shows  you  the  course  from 
deep  water  of  Nasquappe  into  the  creek  ;  every  bit  o'  rock, 
every  bit  channel  marked  to  a  dead  certainty  ;  no  sailin' 
master  could  gae  wrang  wi'  it,  and  an  ordinary  sailor  could 
work  a  fishin'  smack  into  the  inner  harbor  wi'oot  sae  much 
as  a  foul  o'  the  slightest  consequence.  Noo,  David,  tak 
these  papers,  and  just  one  ither." 

He  folded  the  papers  and  gave  them  to  his  son. 

"  The  ither  one  is  hardly  necessary,  but  landmarks  are 
landmarks,  and  it's  weel  to  be  safe  ;  this  other  bit  shows 
you  a  spot  between  the  outlet  o'  Demon's  Cave  and  a 
clearin' ;  not  a  clearin'  by  the  hand  o'  man,  but  a  clearin' 
o'  God's  own,  wi'  flowers  and  fruits  i'  the  summer,  and  when 
we  find  it  I  mak  nae  doubt  ther'll  be  the  remains  o'  a  habi- 
tation. Ye  see  on  this  paper  I  hae  marked  distances  frae 
landmark  to  landmark,  rock  to  rock,  tree  to  tree  ;  just  as  in 
the  ithers,  I  set  down  the  latitude  and  longitude  to  the 
finest  point,  and  proper  tokens  o'  distance  in  the  matter  o' 


"ALWAYS   TO-MORROW."  279 

the  sailing  course,  heights  o'  rocks,  and  something  in  the 
matter  o'  depths  o'  water,  and  so  on.     And  now   ye   are 
thinkin'  what  a'  this  is  to  lead  to.     On  the  eastern  shore  o' 
the  inner  harbor  o'  Wilderness  Creek,  at  the  foot  o'  Demon's 
Rock,  there  are  several  graves,  marked  wi'  memorials  o' 
such  Christian  burial  as  could  be  vouchsafed  at  the  time. 
Wilderness  Creek  was  my  anchorage  when  I  was  feightin' 
the  enemy,  when   I   had  joined  our  brithers  of  America 
against  their  persecutors  and  mine — aye,  and  yours,  David — 
persecutors  who  were  the  death  o'  your  mither  ;  persecutors 
who  trod  out  the  life  o'  hearths  and  hames  that  should  hae 
been  sacred  to  a'  that  men   houd  dear  !     But  I  maunna 
dwell  on  that.     In  the  midst  o'  the  graves  I  tell  ye  of,  there 
are  three  cairns.     They 'cover  three  casks  o'  goud,  precious 
stones,  silks,  textiles,  and  ither  treasures  ;  and  there  is  one 
ither,  making  four,  that  covers  a  more  miscellaneous  store, 
spices,  perfumes,  God  knows  what.     And  at  a  point  marked 
on  the  third  bit  o'  paper,  on  the  heights  above,  at  the  north 
of  a  jutting  rock,  a  mighty  bowlder,  near  a  clump  of  firs, 
ye'll  find  two  bags  o'  guineas,  some  scrip,  a  bundle  o1  Bank 
of  England  notes,  and  sundry  like  securities,  all  properly 
testified,  moneys  o'  your  grandfather's  and  mine,  and  this 
ye  will  keep  exclusively  for  a  memorial  to  your  mither  on 
the  spot  where  she  is  buried,  and  the  rest  ye'll  invest  for 
your  wife  and  bairns,  if  ever  ye  should  be  blest  i'  that  way. 
I  hae  a  kind  o'  sentiment  about  this  money  ;  as  for  the 
casks  among  the  graves  at  the  foot  o'  Demon's  Rock,  I  hae 
only  one  condition  :  gie  Heart's  Delight  a  school  or  church 
in  honor  o'  Father  Lavello  ;  the  rest,  spend  it  as  ye  will  ; 
be  happy  ;  mak  the  name  of  Keith  famous  ;  let  it  be  known 
honorably  at  Heart's  Delight :  mak  it  feared  at  St.  John's ; 
be  generous ;  be  happy,  and  I  will  no  burden  ye  wi'  a  word 
or  thocht  o'  vengeance  ;  indeed,  I  hae  no  advice  to  offer 
ye  ;  no  counsel.     I  canna  offer  ye  my  ain  life  as  an  example. 
Mair  humility,  less  pride,  nae  thochts  o'  vengeance  would 


280  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

be  Lavello's  wish,  and  he  is  a  good,  honest,  truly  religious 
man  ;  practices  his  preachin',  and " 

Here  Alan  paused,  and  fell  gently  back  in  his  chair,  the 
pipe  which  he  had  held  in  his  right  hand  dropped  from  his 
fingers. 

"  What  is  it,  father  ? "  David  exclaimed. 

Alan  smiled,  but  did  not  speak. 

David  took  his  hand  and  chafed  it.  Alan's  lips  moved. 
David  looked  into  the  cupboard  where  Alan  kept  his  wine, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  some  brandy.  He  found  a  flask  of 
spirits,  and  poured  a  little  into  a  glass  which  he  tasted  ;  it 
was  a  liqueur.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  press  the  glass  to 
his  father's  lips  the  old  man  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  moved 
his  hands.  "  Don't  be  afeard,"  he  "whispered,  "  I  was  over- 
wrought, I  amna  sae  young  as  I  was." 

"  Thank  God,  you  are  better,"  said  David,  "  let  me  lead 
you  to  bed,  it  must  be  morning." 

"  Aye,  it  is,"  said  Alan,  still  very  softly,  "  it's  five  o'  the 
clock.  Ye'll  find  the  brandy  in  a  square  bottle  that  looks 
like  Geneva,  it's  down  by  the  right  on  the  floor." 

David  started  for  the  square  black  bottle  and  found  it. 
Alan  had  risen  to  his  feet,  steadying  himself  by  the  back  of 
his  chair. 

"  I'm  an  auld  man,  David,"  he  said,  still  weakly,  and  in 
measured  terms,"  but  I  hae  toud  ye  a'  that's  necessary,  and 
to-morrow  we'll  lay  our  plans." 

He  took  from  David's  hand  a  glass  of  cognac,  drained 
it,  sighed,  and,  smiling,  moved  from  the  chair. 

"  I'm  a'  reight,  David,  just  a  bit  weak.  I  tak  it  as  a  warn- 
ing my  mission's  aboot  at  an  end  ;  God  has  been  owergude 
to  me  to  bring  ye  here  toward  the  close  ;  aye,  laddie,  I'll 
gang  to  bed  ;  to-morrow  we'll  tak'  counsel  aboot  the  sailin'; 
to-morrow  !  D'ye  nae  ken  i*  this  wee  bit  life,  David,  that 
it's  a' ways  to-morrow,  the  gude  we  hope  for,  the  blessings 
we  pray  for — always  to-morrow  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE   BLISS   OF    LOOKING    FORWARD. 

A  STRANGE  night  for  David. 

His  father  lay  in  an  alcove  of  the  great  salon,  which  was 
his  share  of  the  palace  since  he  had  come  into  money- 
For  hours  David  sat  by  his  side  and  watched. 

The  old  man  slept  peacefully.  His  breathing  was  regular. 
He  did  not  stir.  There  were  not  observable  even  the 
twitchings  and  movements  that  are  seen  in  a  dog's  sleep. 
David  sometimes  wondered  if  he  would  wake  again. 

As  morning  began  to  creep  in  through  the  dusty  win- 
dows, David  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  coat  and  a  rug,  and 
lay  down.  He  had  not  been  asleep,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  but 
a  few  minutes  when  he  was  disturbed  by  the  gondolier  who 
had  brought  in  his  father's  rolls  and  coffee,  with  an  extra 
supply  for  David.  The  truth  is  the  boy  had  only  been 
asleep  an  hour.  It  was  eight  o'clock. 

"  I  knew  Terese  had  made  up  a  bed  for  you,  signer,"  said 
the  gondolier,  "  but  I  did  not  know  you  made  the  night  of 
it,  as  you  say  in  the  English.  I  disturb  you  too  early,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  David,  "  I  shall  be  glad  of  the 
coffee." 

"  Si,  signer,  but  the  master,  the  illustrissimo,  he  still 
sleep  ;  ah  !  then  you  sit  up  very  late,  it  is  a  festival  when 
son  meet  father." 

Alan  Keith  slept  on.  His  long  arms  lay  outside  the 
coverlet  ;  his  face  was  serene  ;  neither  David  nor  the 
attendant  said  so,  but  they  both  thought  it  was  beautiful. 
The  gondolier  found  it  like  one  of  the  fine  monuments  in 


282  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

the  church  of  San  Marco.  He  made  a  remark  to  that  effect 
to  his  wife  during  the  day.  David  looked  at  the  recumbent 
figure  and  was  afraid.  But  while  he  gazed  his  father 
awoke. 

"  It's  a'  true,"  he  said,  stretching  his  right  arm  toward 
David,  "  a'  true.  Gie  me  your  hand,  my  son.  How  have 
you  slept  ? " 

"  Not  too  well,"  said  David,  "  but  I  don't  mind  that  ;  I'll 
sleep  to-night.  You  have  slept,  father,  the  sleep  of  the  just, 
the  sleep  of  the  blessed.  I  have  never  seen  anything 
like  it." 

"  Nor  have  I  ever  felt  so  refreshed  on  awakenin',  David. 
Lad,  it's  the  first  real  rest  I  hae  had  sae  lang  as  I  can  remem- 
ber ;  the  sleep  o'  a  tired,  contented  man,  dreamless  as  the 
dead.  I  was  worn  out,  lad,  dog-tired,  and  I  just  feel  a  new 
man.  I'm  afeard  I  scared  ye  ;  I  was  just  a  wee  bit  scared 
mysel'  ;  but  it  was  nature  giving  out,  weary  for  a  rest  after 
years  and  years  o'  waitin',  wi'  a  secret  that  was  burnin*  into 
the  very  life  o'  me,  wi'  a  longin'  beyond  a'  imagination. 
David,  we'll  celebrate  the  day." 

The  sun  came  out  bravely.  For  an  hour  or  two  it  was 
almost  summer. 

Alan  talked  of  Venice,  and  showed  it  to  his  son  with  an 
air  of  ownership. 

They  breakfasted  at  a  caft  in  the  Square  of  St.  Mark's 
more  luxuriously  than  David  had  ever  breakfasted  before. 
They  drank  their  wine,  and  watched  the  busy  throng,  and 
listened  to  the  Austrian  band. 

Many  persons  saluted  the  picturesque  old  man,  and  smiled 
upon  him  with  a  sort  of  pitying  admiration.  The  mad  Eng- 
lishman had  become  almost  an  institution  of  the  city,  more 
especially  since  his  ship  had  come  in,  as  Father  Lavello 
had  described  the  opening  of  his  banking  account. 

Without  understanding  a  word  they  said,  David  could 
gather  the  Venetians  looked  upon  his  father  very  much  in 


THE  BLISS  OF  LOOKING  FORWARD.  283 

the  way  he  had  been  more  than  once  inclined  to  regard  himf 
as  a  kindly  dreamer,  one  whose  troubles  and  disasters  had 
turned  his  head,  and  with  a  divine  charity  in  the  direction 
of  a  fortune  of  buried  treasure  ;  and  yet  his  father  had  been 
so  explicit  and  so  clear  in  his  account,  so  definite  in  his 
chart  and  plans,  and  his  story  filled  up  so  much  of  what 
had  hitherto  been  blank  to  David,  that  he  only  doubted  for 
a  moment,  while  he  believed  for  hours  and  days  ;  and  now  he 
began  to  feel  anxious  in  the  direction  of  Caister ;  anxious, 
to  be  gone  even  from  this  Paradise  of  the  sea,  to  tell  Elmira 
of  his  great  fortune  and  to  make  arrangements  for  a  siege 
of  the  rocky  coast  of  Labrador.  That,  of  course,  was  not  to 
be  thought  of  until  the  first  days  of  summer  should  begin  to 
loosen  the  icy  bonds  of  the  coast  and  make  navigation  pos- 
sible in  its  most  difficult  waters. 

"This  is  my  son,"  Alan  would  say  now  and  then,  in  his 
queer  Italian,  to  acquaintances  and  others  who  paused  to  bid 
him  good-day.  They  would  smile  and  wish  him  well ;  but 
one  or  two  had  heard  the  story  of  the  wreck  and  the  land- 
ing of  the  young  English  sailor.  These  stopped  to  talk  and 
chatter  and  shake  the  lad's  hand. 

"  He  will  be  rich,"  said  Alan  to  a  friend  of  the  absent 
Lavello  ;  "  I  am  to  fit  oot  a  ship  for  him  i'  Venice,  a  bark 
as  tight  and  trim  as  the  hand  o'  man  can  make  it." 

Nobody  took  Alan  seriously,  but  he  took  their  nods  and 
smiles  for  friendliness  and  good  neighborship  ;  and  so  all 
was  well. 

"  Let  us  go  in  and  thank  God  !  "  said  Alan  after  David 
had  feasted  his  eyes  on  the  gold-fronted  glories  of  St. 
Mark's.  They  entered  with  others  while  the  choir  was  fill- 
ing the  strangely  beautiful  temple  with  music  that  was 
divine.  David  passed  the  benitier,  but  knelt  by  his  father's 
side,  and  his  heart  beat  devoutly  ;  he  wept  silently,  thanked 
God  for  his  preservation,  and  prayed  for  the  blessing  of  his 
protecting  hand  on  the  ocean  paths  that  still  lay  before  him, 


284  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

From  St.  Mark's  they  wandered  about  the  city,  following 
its  narrow  paths,  loitering  in  its  little  squares,  tarrying  at  its 
shop  windows,  and  basking  in  the  welcome  winter  sun  that 
shone  upon  Beau  Rivage,  whence  they  took  a  gondola  and 
floated  by  the  palaces  of  the  Grand  Canal,  coming  to  an 
anchor  for  dinner  at  the  little  caft  by  the  Rialto,  where  the 
Turkish  guardian  of  the  ancient  palace  was  solemnly  refresh- 
ing himself.  They  talked,  these  two,  Alan  and  the  Turk, 
without  understanding  much  that  either  of  them  said  ;  and 
after  dinner  Alan  incited  the  other  frequenters  of  the  place 
to  join  him  in  a  flagon  of  Chianti.  Later,  when  the  sun 
had  disappeared,  and  the  moon  had  taken  up  the  marvel- 
ous story  of  the  day  and  night,  David  and  his  father  walked 
home  to  their  chilly  room,  where  Terese  had  done  all  she 
knew  to  make  it  comfortable.  The  lamps  and  the  candles 
were  lighted,  and,  before  they  were  well  sat  down  in  their 
rugs  and  cushions,  she  entered  with  black  coffee  and  cognac. 

Father  and  son  lighted  their  pipes,  and  then  it  was  that 
David  unfolded  to  his  father  those  experiences,  engage- 
ments, and  desires  that  were  nearest  to  his  heart. 

While  David  spoke  of  the  cottage  at  Caister,  and  the 
creek  where  Zaccheus  hauled  up  his  dingey,  and  other 
fishermen  dragged  ashore  their  yawls,  he  saw,  in  imagina- 
-tion,  the  sun  shining  upon  it;  the  trackless  dunes,  the  blue 
sea,  and  the  garden  full  of  flowers — more  particularly  the 
seat  with  its  figurehead  and  its  hollyhocks — with  Elmira  in 
every  picture.  Alan  sat  and  smoked  and  sipped  his  coffee, 
and  offered  by  way  of  comment  encouraging  little  mono- 
syllables, and  watched  the  glowing  face  of  the  lad  as  the 
boy's  love  brought  the  blushes  to  his  cheeks. 

"  I  see  it  a',"  said  Alan  presently  ;  "  dinna  ye  waste  your 
breath,  laddie,  and  there's  nae  need  for  ye  to  blush  ;  she's 
your  sweetheart,  Elmira  Webb  ;  a  gude  lassie,  the  daughter 
of  a  gude  father.  The  sea  maks  brave,  gude  men,  David, 
and  honest,  wholesome  wenches.  I'll  back  your  own  heart 


THE  BLISS  OF  LOOKING  FORWARD.  285 

to  hae  selected  weel,  and  ye  hae  my  consent  reight  off,  and 
God  bless  ye  baith  !  " 

Alan  reached  out  his  long  arm,  took  David's  hand,  and 
pressed  it  with  a  long,  fond  grip. 

"  There's  naught  ennobles  a  man  sae  much  as  a  true  and 
honest  love.  David,  we'll  mak  a  queen  o'  her  !  She  shall 
deck  hersel'  in  the  finest  jewels  that  the  St.  Dennis  won 
frae  timid  hearts  to  hand  over  to  British  bulldogs  ;  ye'll  see, 
lad  !  David,  I  seem  to  hae  renewed  my  youth  sin'  last 
neight.  I  ken  a'  ye  feel  this  minute  ;  ye  are  like  the  Psalm- 
ist sighin'  for  wings  ;  and  ye  shall  hae  them,  lad.  There's 
a  fine,  well-found  ship  i'  port — an  East  Indiaman  bound 
for  London.  We'll  sail  together,  and  ye  shall  tell  your 
lassie,  '  This  is  my  father,'  and  I'll  talk  wi'  the  man,  Zac- 
cheus  Webb,  aboot  the  men  that  gae  doon  to  the  sea  in 
ships.  And  mayhap  it  might  be  best  to  fit  oot  our  bark  for 
Newfoundland  at  Bristol  or  Plymouth  ;  and  we  could  then 
tak  a  trip  to  Dartmouth  and  see  the  country  where  your 
grandfather's  folk  hailed  frae.  Nay,  on  second  thoughts, 
that  will  be  a  good  country  to  steer  clear  frae,  lest  we  be 
detained  wi'  discoveries  o'  the  cursed  brood  o'  Ristack  and 
the  rest.  I'm  gaein'  to  be  wise  and  discreet,  with  the 
wisdom  o'  the  serpent,  as  puir  auld  Doolan  used  to  say  ; 
I'm  just  a  man  o'  peace,  David  ;  a  man  wi'  a  vast  stake  i' 
the  country  oot  yonder." 

David,  with  a  passing  thought  of  how  Yarmouth  and 
Caister  would  open  their  eyes  at  his  tall  and  bony  father, 
with  his  deep-set  eyes,  his  long,  thin  hands,  his  strange  gait 
and  manner,  and  his  curious  dress,  was,  however,  nothing 
loath  to  have  his  companionship  across  the  sea.  He  felt 
sure  that  Elmira  would  forgive  his  foreign  and  ancient 
looks  when  she  knew  that  he  was  rich  ;  though  the  secret 
of  Wilderness  Creek  was  not  to  be  shared  by  mortal  soul 
outside  father  and  son. 

And  so  the  youthful  and  only  survivor  of  the  peaceful 


286  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Morning  Star,  and  the  only  survivor  of  the  fighting  brig- 
antine  St.  Dennis,  sailed  from  the  quay  at  Venice  out  into 
the  Adriatic,  bound  for  the  London  docks.  No  shadow  of 
the  impending  heartache  and  trouble  that  waited  David  on 
his  return  to  the  scene  of  his  looked-for  happiness  fell  upon 
his  homeward  journey.  It  followed  the  blessed  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  that  David  should  have  no  fore-knowl- 
edge of  the  evils  that  awaited  him,  while  on  the  back-going 
track  of  Alan,  his  father,  the  flowers  of  forgetfulness  and 
consolation  were  blossoming  freely  and  shedding  sweet  and 
unlooked-for  perfumes. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
THE  RAKE'S  PROGRESS. 

"  MRS.  LONGFORD-WEST  at  home  ? "  asked  Mr.  Harry 
Barkstead,  dismounting  from  his  horse  at  the  hall  door  of 
Filby  House,  a  rambling  two-story  mansion  surrounded 
with  gardens  in  which  close-clipped  lawns  and  orna- 
mental yews  were  quaint  and  restful  features  of  the 
place. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  a  smart  footman,  with  the  servile  cour- 
tesy of  a  town  servant. 

"  Dobbs,  put  up  my  horse  for  an  hour  ;  give  him  some 
oats,"  said  Harry,  addressing  Mrs.  Longford-West's  head 
groom,  who  was  passing  in  the  direction  of  the  stables. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Dobbs,  taking  charge  of  a  chestnut  that 
was  just  beginning  to  show  the  effects  of  a  hard  gallop,  his 
neck  wet,  his  mouth  white  with  foam. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Mr.  Barkstead,"  said  Mrs.  Cooper, 
the  housekeeper,  who  appeared  on  the  scene  as  the  hall 
door  closed.  "This  way,  if  you  please." 

Harry  followed  Mrs.  Cooper,  beating  his  leather  breeches 
just  a  little  impatiently,  and  she  led  him  into  her  own  room 
in  the  kitchen  wing  of  the  house.  Here  she  turned  on  him 
a  face  paled  with  anger. 

"  What  is  it,  Mrs.  Cooper  ? "  said  Harry. 

"  Stop  your  visits  to  the  lodge,  and  put  no  more  of  your 
verses  into  the  alder  tree  by  the  ten-acre  meadow,  d'ye 
hear  ?  " 

"  Does  Jessie  object  to  my  visits  and  my  verses  ? " 

"  I  object  to  them." 

287 


288  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"  But  I  don't  go  to  the  lodge  to  see  you,  nor  do  you 
inspire  my  verses,  Mrs.  Cooper." 

"  No,  but  if  you  go  to  the  lodge  again  to  see  Jessie,  you'll 
see  me,"  said  Mrs.  Cooper,  her  lips  white  with  passion,  her 
hands  trembling. 

"  Shall  I  ?    Then  I  won't  go  again,  Mrs.  Cooper." 

"  God  knows  if  the  mischief  is  not  already  done,"  was 
the  reply ;  "  if  it  is,  look  to  it,  Mr.  Barkstead.  If  the  girl 
is  but  an  orphan,  she  is  not  without  friends." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Harry. 

"  And  Norfolk's  not  without  law  either,  for  that  matter, 
and  Justice  Barkstead,  though  he's  your  father,  will  hardly 
see  even  his  son  bring  ruin  upon  the  helpless  and  the 
innocent,  though,  if  report  does  not  wrong  you,  there's 
many  a  girl  that  could  accuse  you." 

Having  mastered  her  first  emotion,  Mrs.  Cooper  found 
her  words  come  freely,  and  the  more  she  said  the  more  she 
felt  she  had  to  say. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Harry.  "  Did  Mrs.  Longford-West  know 
that  you  were  going  to  honor  me  with  these  pleasant 
remarks  ? " 

"  No,  sir  ;  but  I  dare  say  she  knows  you  well  enough  not 
to  trust  you  any  further  than  she  can  see  you.  She  can 
take  care  of  herself." 

"  Oh,  you  think  so,"  said  Harry  ;  "  shall  I  tell  her  what 
you  say  ?  Is  the  position  of  housekeeper  at  Filby  House 
so  poor  a  place  that  you  can  afford  to  throw  it  away  ?  Or 
have  you  feathered  your  nest  so  well  that  you  are  thinking 
of  retiring  with  some  happy  man  into  a  snug  little  tavern, 
'  good  accommodation  for  man  and  beast  ? ' ' 

"  I  can  afford  anything,  Mr.  Henry  Barkstead,  but  to  see 
my  motherless  niece  go  to  the  bad  without  an  effort  to 
save  her." 

As  she  spoke  she  drew  a  necklace  from  her  pocket  and 
flung  it  at  his  feet. 


THE  RAKE'S  PROGRESS.  289 

"  And  there's  the  bauble  you  gave  her.  Take  it  and  put 
it  round  the  neck  of  some  other  softie  who  is  fool  enough 
to  listen  to  your  honeyed  lies  and  promises." 

"  Very  well,  since  you  wish  it,"  said  Harry,  fishing  it 
from  the  floor  with  his  riding  whip. 

"  Ah,  I  don't  doubt  ye,"  said  Mrs.  Cooper,  opening  the 
door  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Langford-West's  bell.  "  Good- 
morning,  Squire  Barkstead,  the  mistress  is  waiting  to  receive 
you." 

"  Look  here,  Mrs.  Cooper,"  said  Harry.  "  I  look  over 
your  rudeness,  firstly,  because  you  are  in  anger,  and  sec- 
ondly, for  the  sake  of  your  pretty  little  niece.  Good- 
evening." 

As  he  closed  the  door,  Mrs.  Cooper  flung  herself  into  a 
chair  and  burst  into  tears. 

Mrs.  Longford-West  was  a  rich  widow.  She  had  been 
twice  married,  and  scandal  said  she  ought  really  to  have 
been  thrice  a  widow,  though  she  was  only  five-and-thirty, 
and  did  not  look  her  age  within  some  years.  Blonde, 
buxom,  ample  of  bust  and  figure,  just  tall  enough  not  to 
be  dumpy,  she  was  the  picture  of  health,  and  had  a  free 
and  hearty  manner  that  made  men  happy  and  at  home  in 
her  society,  and  most  of  her  lady  visitors  ill  at  ease,  not  to 
say  uncomfortable. 

She  brought  from  her  house  and  society  in  town  the  unre- 
strained manners  of  its  loosest  social  circles,  and  enjoyed 
the  confusion  they  created  among  stranger  guests  who 
called  upon  her  for  the  first  time.  Nevertheless,  she  man- 
aged to  make  herself  popular  in  the  county.  She  gave 
freely  to  everything  and  to  everybody  ;  to  the  church,  the 
races  ;  subscribed  liberally  to  the  hunt  ;  patronized  public 
institutions  in  a  generous  way  ;  and  so  managed  to  keep  on 
visiting  terms,  if  not  with  all  the  best  families,  at  least  with 
such  of  them  as  were  most  before  the  public. 

Sir  Anthony  Barkstead  was  her  nearest  neighbor,  and  she 


290  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

made  a  great  point  of  conciliating  his  prejudices  and 
opinions  as  far  as  she  was  able  ;  for,  truth  to  tell,  she  and 
his  gallant  and  highly  educated  son  and  heir  were  on  the 
very  best  of  neighborly  terms ;  indeed,  there  were  those 
who  thought  it  even  possible  that  Mrs.  Longford-West,  if 
anything  happened  to  old  Sir  Anthony,  might  live  to  be 
Lady  Barkstead.  They,  who  allowed  themselves  to  specu- 
late so  far  ahead  in  regard  to  the  future  of  Mrs.  Longford- 
West,  did  not  know  the  disposition  and  character  of  Harry 
Barkstead. 

"  Well,  so  you  have  returned,  my  dear  Harry,"  said  the 
lady  of  Filby  House,  giving  him  her  plump,  generous  hand 
to  kiss.  "  You  are  more  Quixotic  than  I  think,  if  the  west- 
ern city  had  not  some  other  attraction  for  you  beyond  see- 
ing that  poor  young  clerk  of  Petherick's  off  to  sea.  Per- 
haps you  had  an  engagement  in  Bath,  eh?" 

"  No,  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Libby,"  said  Harry,  taking  the 
smiling,  unresisting  face  of  madame  between  his  hands 
and  kissing  the  white  forehead,  "  pure  friendship,  on  my 
honor ! " 

"  Swear  by  something  more  reliable,  my  dear  Harry," 
said  the  lady  ;  "  honor  is  for  serious,  sober  men,  when  they 
have  sown  all  their  wild  oats." 

"  Do  you  say  so  ? "  Harry  replied,  sitting  by  her  side  on 
a  rather  uncomfortable  Italian  couch,  "you  ought  to 
know." 

"You  are  a  brute,  Harry,"  said  Mrs.  Longford-West,  "a 
perfect  brute.  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  you  are  the  most  charming  of  widows  and  the 
most  generous  of  friends,"  said  her  visitor,  "and  I  desire 
to  ask  the  most  delightful  of  her  sex  to  accept  a  souvenir 
of  that  city  of  the  west,  which  is  distinguished  because  it  is 
the  neighbor  of  the  Bath,  where  first  I  had  the  honor  of 
meeting  Mrs.  Aylesbury  Norton." 

"  You  are  very  cruel,  Harry ;  you  know  I  hate  the  name 


THE  RAKE'S  PROGRESS,  291 

of  Norton.  However  I  came  to  marry  into  such  a  family, 
Heaven  only  knows.  I  never  should  if  I  had  met  dear 
Longford -West  before  my  young  heart  was  ensnared  by 
Aylesbury  Norton." 

"  And  to  think  it  is  only  five  years  since  all  this  hap- 
pened, and  I  was  sowing  my  first  sack  of  wild  oats,  as  you 
would  say,  when  I  danced  that  first  cotillion  with  you." 

"  Don't  talk  of  time  ;  it  was  made  for  men  who  have  not 
the  wit,  and  women  who  have  not  the  beauty  to  defy  it." 

"  You  certainly  have  both  the  wit  and  the  beauty,  my 
dear  Libby.  But  here  it  is — that  little  souvenir.  They  are 
famous  for  Eastern  gems  and  antiquities  at  Bristol,  they 
say.  I  bought  this  in  College  Green — it  belonged  to  an 
Indian  princess." 

He  opened  a  richly  embossed  case  and  drew  forth  a 
quaint  brooch  with  a  diamond  set  in  pearls. 

"  There — do  not  say  you  are  not  always  in  my  thoughts, 
and  believe  me  when  I  add  that  I  could  not  go  to  Bath  for 
thinking  of  the  happy  days  that  can  never  return." 

"  My  dear  Harry,"  said  the  lady  tenderly,  "  you  are 
always  the  same  sweet,  irritating,  dear  good  fellow.  It  is  a 
lovely  brooch,  thank  you  so  much — and  you  may  kiss  me." 

Harry  put  his  arms  about  the  ample  waist  and  took  his 
reward  heartily,  declaring  that  he  did  not  know  what  under 
heaven  would  happen  to  him  if  he  should  lose  his  dear, 
dear  Libby. 

"Ah,  Harry,  you  have  said  the  same  thing  to  many 
another  woman,"  was  dear  Libby 's  rejoinder. 

"  No,  on  my — well,  on  my  soul,"  he  replied. 

"  I  suppose  you  must  be  forgiven  ;  young  men  will  be 
young  men  ;  but  one  day  you  will  have  to  settle  down,  you 
know — and  oh  !  dear  Harry,  what  shall  I  do  then  ?  Unless 
— but  there,  it  is  not  leap  year." 

"  Only  one  year  to  wait,"  said  Harry.  "  But  don't  let  us 
talk  about  settling  down  ;  if  I  am  not  called  upon  to  settle 


292  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

up,  I  shall  not  mind.  Do  you  remember  what  the  poet 
says  in  the  tragedy  ?  'Widows  know  so  much.'  " 

"  You  are  a  wicked  scamp,"  said  Mrs.  Longford-West ; 
"  widows  are  poor,  libeled,  innocent  creatures  ;  their  only 
fault  is  that  they  are  too  tender,  too  forbearing  with  the 
men ;  self-denial  is  their  only  fault.  Take  poor  me  for 
instance.  To  save  my  life  I  couldn't  help  confessing  that 
I  love  you — why  should  I,  when  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  good,  generous  Libby,"  exclaimed  Harry, 
taking  another  kiss  from  the  full,  liberal  lips  of  his  hostess, 
and  then  rising  to  go. 

"  Why  so  soon  •?"  she  asked. 

"Business,  dear,"  he  said  ;  "business  of  importance  at 
Yarmouth ;  a  personal  message  to  the  chief  magistrate 
from  Sir  Anthony." 

"  Truly?"  she  asked. 

"  Truly,"  he  replied.  "  May  I  ring  for  Dobbs  to  bring 
my  horse  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  it  must  be  so,"  she  replied. 

Harry  rung,  the  horse  was  ordered,  and  guest  and  hostess 
were  about  to  part  when  Harry  said,  "  By  the  way,  the  girl  at 
the  lodge — Jessie.  Mrs.  Cooper  seems  to  think  that  a  little 
civility  I  paid  the  girl  has  turned  her  head — the  truth  is " 

"Only  a  little  civility  ?  "  remarked  Mrs.  Longford-West, 
with  a  strong  note  of  interrogation. 

"  My  dear  Libby,  now  that  is  unkind  ;  you  know  I  am 
fond  of  gardening  and  that  your  man  Dunn  has  no  rival  as 
a  florist.  I  am  sure  Sir  Anthony  would  give  him  any  wages 
if  he  were  free,  which  of  course  he  never  will  be  so  long  as 
his  mistress  loves  flowers,  and  he  glories  in  making  Filby 
House  the  paradise  it  should  be  with  such  an  Eve — I  mean 
such  a  goddess." 

"  Now  I  know  there  is  something  wrong,  Harry  ;  you 
are  paying  compliments  for  the  mere  sake  of  talking.  What 
is  it?  " 


THE  RAKE'S  PROGRESS.  293 

"  Well,  between  ourselves,  that  is  exactly  what  I  asked 
Mrs.  Cooper,  who  desired  a  few  words  with  me  as  I  came 
in  ;  and  all  I  could  gather  was  that  she  wished  me  not  to. 
look  in  at  the  lodge  any  more.  I  hate  mysteries,  as  you 
know,  so  I  thought  I  would  mention  it  ;  one  gets  the 
reputation  of  being  a  gallant,  however  unworthy  one  is 
of  the  title — a  Lovelace,  as  an  old  fool  of  a  guardian 
once  called  me  in  the  Park — and  it  is  all  over  with  a 
fellow.  Ah,  well,  one  day,  as  you  say,  the  oats  will  all 
have  been  sown  ;  meanwhile,  dearest  Libby,  au  revoir  !  " 

"  The  reprobate,"  said  Mrs.  Longford-West,  "  the  scamp, 
the  prodigal  !  Oh,  you  goose,  Libby  Longford-West — you 
idiot,  you  foolish  Clarissa  !  You  cannot  help  loving  him  ; 
they  may,  indeed,  truly  say  that  the  first  sigh  of  love  is  the 
last  of  wisdom  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

HE   CALLED   IT    LOVE. 

IT  was  a  glorious  day  in  September — the  roads  hedged 
with  hips  and  haws  and  gay  with  browning  leaves.  The 
sky  was  bright,  the  wind  was  fresh.  Sportsmen  were  in 
the  stubbles  and  the  turnips.  The  crack  of  their  guns 
was  heard  afar,  and  the  light  whiffs  of  smoke  from  their 
burnt  powder  marked  the  occasional  groups  of  gunners 
following  the  poor  brown-coated  partridge.  Harry  was  in 
high  spirits.  He  might  have  been  riding  forth  on  some  right 
worthy  mission,  so  merry  was  he,  talking  to  his  horse, 
singing  snatches  of  old  ballads,  laughing  now  and  then, 
and  returning  the  greetings  of  passers-by  with  a  bright, 
cheerful  face  that  more  than  one  mischievous  wench 
turned  round  to  gaze  upon,  but  never  unnoticed  by  the 
distinguished  looking  young  horseman. 

I'd  not  walk'd  in  that  garden, 

The  past  of  half  an  hour, 
When  there  I  saw  two  pretty  maids, 

Sitting  under  a  shady  bower. 
The  first  was  lovely  Nancy, 

So  beautiful  and  fair, 
The  other  was  a  virgin, 

Who  did  the  laurel  wear. 

He  trolled  out  Zaccheus  Webb's  favorite  song  in  a  jovial, 
merry  way,  and  later  it  pleased  his  mood  to  chant  a  snatch 
of  "  The  Miller  of  the  Dee,"  giving  more  particularly  full 
emphasis  to  "  I  care  for  nobody  and  nobody  cares  for  me." 

The  trot  of  his  horse  suited  the  measure  of  the  rhyme, 
and  the  cheeriness  of  the  day  was  in  harmony  with  the 
song. 


HE  CALLED  IT  LOVE.  295 

"  A  dare-devil,"  said  the  toll-gate  man  to  a  carter  who 
made  way  for  the  young  squire.  "  None  more  so,  I've 
heard  say,"  was  the  carter's  response  ;  and  Harry,  pulling 
up  his  horse  to  gather  a  sprig  of  honeysuckle,  which  he 
stuck  into  his  buttonhole,  toasted  the  women,  as  diaries 
toasted  them  in  Sheridan's  famous  comedy 

Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen, 

Here's  to  the  widow  of  fifty  ; 
Here's  to  the  flaunting  extravagant  quean, 

And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 

He  was  encouraging  his  low  ambition  ;  the  ambition  of 
the  gallant,  the  libertine,  the  deceiver  of  women.  His  best 
impulses  presenting  themselves  in  opposition  now  and  then, 
he  beat  up  ribald  songs  or  started  selfish  thoughts  to  keep 
lust  and  passion  in  the  van.  He  was  like  a  savage  on  the 
warpath  beating  his  tom-tom  and  shouting  his  vvarcry. 
He  regarded  women  with  but  little  more  consideration 
than  the  sportsman  he  had  passed  regarded  partridges. 
Both  were  game  to  his  mind,  and  his  mind  was  common  in 
those  days  among  bucks  and  dandies.  Such  men  counted 
their  conquests  as  the  North  American  Indian  counted  his 
scalps.  There  are  singular  creatures  walking  about  dis- 
guised as  honest  men  in  these  days  and  will  be  to  the  end 
of  time  ;  for  God  makes  such  things,  unless  it  is  as  Mirian 
suggested  in  the  poem,  that  "  the  devil  slavers  them  so 
excellently  that  we  come  to  doubt  who's  strongest,  He  who 
makes  or  he  who  mars." 

It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  Harry  Barkstead,  fresh  from 
seeing  his  friend  off  on  a  long  sea  journey  and  charged  with 
sweet  and  tender  messages  to  the  girl  who  was  pledged 
to  be  David  Keith's  wife,  could  contemplate  the  villainy 
that  Mephistopheles  instigated  in  Faust;  a  villainy  indeed 
a  thousand  times  blacker,  and  yet  a  villainy  not  altogether 
wholly  inspired  of  the  devil  or  of  Barkstead's  own  depraved 


296  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

mind,  but  half  inspired  by  the  girl  herself ;  half  encouraged 
by  her  coquetry,  her  vanity  of  conquest,  her  ambition  to  be 
admired,  her  love  of  dress,  and  her  consciousness  of  phys- 
ical charms  calculated  to  attract,  and  therefore  the  more 
necessary  to  be  guarded,  the  more  blessed  to  have  for  the 
bestowal  upon  a  true  and  pure  love. 

He  called  at  Hartley's  Row,  having  promised  David  that 
he  would  do  so.  It  would  please  Miss  Mumford,  the  boy 
had  said,  and  Mildred  Hope  would  be  the  happier  for  his 
courtesy  ;  they  would  also  be  proud  to  see  him.  Oh,  yes, 
he  called.  They  were  both  there,  Mildred  and  Sally,  both 
looking  equally  sad.  He  cheered  them  with  good  news, 
told  them  of  the  fine  ship  David  had  been  lucky  enough  to 
sail  in,  spoke  of  his  comfortable  berth,  and  made  some 
sentimental  remark  about  the  ship's  name  that  quite  took 
Mildred  Hope,  who  felt  for  a  moment  in  her  heart — great 
heart  in  a  small  body — that  after  all  Mr.  Barkstead  might 
not  be  so  callous  as  she  had  feared.  The  Morning  Star  ! 
Yes,  it  was  a  name  of  happy  omen,  Harry  repeated  ;  he 
hoped  Miss  Hope  would  forgive  him  for  quoting  a  poet, 
who  was  not  popular  in  religious  circles,  but  who  really 
was  not  wholly  bad  ;  it  was  from  the  "  Giaour." 

She  was  a  form  of  life  and  light, 
That  seen  became  a  part  of  sight, 
And  rose,  when'er  I  turned  mine  eye, 
The  morning  star  of  Memory. 

"  YOJ  don't  read  Byron,  of  course,  Miss  Hope,"  he  went 
on  ;  "I  suppose  Mr.  Crabbe  is  more  to  your  liking  ? " 

"  I  don't  find  time  to  read  much,"  said  Mildred,  turning 
her  serious  eyes  full  upon  him,  "but  I  have  read  Mr. 
Crabbe,  and  I  know  Aldborough.  His  books  are  quite 
recognized,  I  hear,  in  London.  We  know  little  of  them 
here,  where  we  should  know  them  best." 

"  Rather  prosy  to  be  called  a  poet,"  said  Harry,  "  but 
means  well." 


HE  CALLED  IT  LOVE.  297 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Mildred. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  going  to  Mr.  Webb's,  sir," 
remarked  Miss  Mumford. 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Harry,  "  I  thought  of  riding  over  now. 
My  first  business  in  Yarmouth  was  to  call  and  see  you,  and 
give  you  David's  last  messages— his  love,  you  know,  and 
best  wishes,  and  his  desire  that  you  should  keep  up  good 
hearts  about  him,  and  so  on  ;  and  then  he  charged  me  to 
tell  Elmira — Miss  Webb,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  say — that  he 
will  look  forward  to  his  return  as  the  happiest  day  of  his 
life,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  You  know  the  kind  of  thing  a 
lad  would  say,  Miss  Hope,  under  the  circumstances." 

Harry's  good  spirits  and  the  flippant  way  in  which  he 
delivered  his  messages,  the  gayety  of  his  manner,  the  fop- 
pishness of  his  velvet  coat,  his  gold-headed  riding  whip, 
his  clanking  spurs,  were  out  of  harmony  with  the  feeling 
(?f  the  two  women,  and  a  kind  of  rebuke  to  their  environ- 
ment. 

Poor  Sally  Mumford,  her  heart  full  of  love  and  anxiety 
for  David  ;  and  Mildred  Hope,  all  sympathy  for  her  friend, 
and  with  that  deeper  unspoken  love  for  the  lad  that  Sally 
only  half  suspected  ;  they  found  no  ready  response  to  the 
young  squire's  messages  and  comment.  There  was  an 
awkward  pause,  during  which  he  tapped  his  pearl-buttoned 
gaiters  and  said  he  must  go  now,  his  mare  was  a  little  fret- 
ful, and  he  thought  he  must  give  her  a  rest  at  the  Norfolk, 
and  drive  over  to  Caister  with  his  messages  to  Zaccheus 
and  Miss  Webb.  Did  they  think  he  should  find  them  at 
home? 

Mildred  thought  Zaccheus  would  be  fishing.  She  saw 
the  Scud  off  Gorleston  in  the  early  morning,  and  the  Yar- 
mouth men  had  mostly  put  out  the  day  before. 

"And  Miss  Webb?"  said  Harry,  "have  you  seen 
her?" 

"  Not  since  Sunday,"  said  Mildred;  "she  was  at  church." 


298  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"  In  a  fine  new  gown,"  said  Miss  Mumford,  "  and  a  hat 
fit  for  a  duchess." 

"You  don't  approve  of  Elmira's  fine  feathers,"  said 
Harry. 

"  There's  time  and  place  for  everything,"  said  Sally, 
"  and  with  David  away  I  must  say  I  did  think  the  girl  he 
has  engaged  himself  to  might  have  considered  it  in  her  hat 
and  gown." 

Sally  spoke  a  little  impulsively,  set  on  to  be  critical,  not 
so  much  on  account  of  Elmira's  finery,  as  by  reason  of  the 
something  flippant  and  thoughtless,  to  say  the  least,  in 
the  manner  of  Mr.  Barkstead's  remarks  about  David. 

"  But  young  ladies,  and  especially  pretty  ones,  Miss 
Mumford,  have  a  license  in  the  matter  of  their  toilet,  and 
Miss  Webb  always  dressed  a  little  above  her  station." 

"  More's  the  pity,"  said  Sally. 

"  David  likes  to  see  her  in  pretty  gowns,"  said  Mildred, 
addressing  her  friend  Sally,  "  and  she  has  taste,  everybody 
must  admit  that.  Poor  Elmira,  she  has  a  good  heart,  and 
she  is  right  to  try  and  be  cheerful.  Did  you  notice  how  well 
she  sung  in  the  fisherman's  hymn,  as  they  call  it — a  sup- 
plication for  those  at  sea  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  nothing  against  the  dear  child,"  replied 
Sally,  regretting  the  words  she  had  spoken  ;  "give  my  love 
to  her,  Mr.  Barkstead,  if  you  see  her,  and  me  and  Miss 
Hope  have  it  in  mind  to  pay  her  a  call  to-morrow,  and  per- 
haps she  will  come  to  tea  on  Sunday  after  church.  But  I 
will  ask  her  that  myself.  And  you  need  not  mention  that 
I  thought  her  too  gayly  dressed  ;  it  might  hurt  the  gel's 
feelings,  and  Heaven  knows  I  don't  wish  to  do  that." 

"I'm  very  unhappy,"  said  Sally,  when  Barkstead  had 
jangled  his  spurs  along  the  Row,  and  mounted  his  horse, 
"about  Elmira;  I'm  afeard  this  young  man  is  heartless, 
and  I  never  believed  in  the  truth  of  his  friendliness  for  our 
dear  David.  It's  an  awful  thing  for  a  gel  to  be  without  a 


HE  CALLED  IT  LOVE.  299 

mother ;  and  that  Charity  Dene's  no  good  ;  not  a  ha'porth 
of  sense.  As  for  Zaccheus,  why  he's  away  for  hours,  and 
sometimes  for  days.  What's  to  hinder  a  designing  young 
man  like  this  reckless,  prodigal  squire,  with  his  fine  manners 
and  his  grand  ways,  from  making  a  fool  of  the  lass,  when 
she  meets  him  halfway  with  her  vanity  and  fal-lals?" 

"Comfort  you,"  said  Mildred.  "  Elmira  has  far  more 
sense  than  you  think  ;  besides  she  is  proud,  very  proud  ; 
in  such  a  girl  pride  is  a  good  thing,  and  she  loves  her  father  ; 
furthermore,  she  is  engaged  to  be  married." 

"  I  don't  care,  I  wouldn't  trust  her  out  of  my  sight  if  I 
was  her  mother  or  her  aunt  or  foster,  or  whatever  it  might 
be  ;  she  knows  little  more  than  how  to  do  her  hair  and  wear 
her  clothes,  and  she  gives  her  mind  to  that  only  to  mak  folk 
gossip  and  set  the  men  a-staring.  You  talk  of  her  singin' 
in  church  ;  didn't  you  see  every  young  feller  there,  as  we 
came  out,  stare  at  her,  and  some  of  the  old  ones  too  ?  And 
she  just  knew  all  about  it.  I've  no  patience  with  such 
ways,  and  especially  when  iverybody  knows  that  our  David, 
poor  lad,  is  gone  to  sea  and  would  break  his  heart  if  he 
thought  she  gave  cause  for  a  light  word  to  be  said  about 
her  while  he  was  away.  It's  bad  enough  when  he's  at  home 
to  look  after  her." 

"  Poor  David  !  poor  Elmira  !  "  was  Mildred's  response  ; 
"  we  must  pray  that  God  will  guard  the  motherless  child. 
I  will  go  and  see  her  every  day  ;  she  will  often  listen  to 
me  ;  there  is  much  good  in  the  girl's  heart." 

"And  much  vanity,"  said  Sally.  "  I  fear  David,  with  his 
trusting  soul  and  his  faith  and  honor,  has  sorrow  in  store 
there — yes,  I  do." 

Then  Sally  began  to  cry  and  Mildred  made  an  ingenious 
feminine  effort  to  soothe  her  ;  and  all  the  while  Harry 
Barkstead  was  making  his  way  to  Caister,  not  driving,  as 
he  at  first  intended,  but  sitting  in  the  stern  of  the  Swallow, 
which  he  had  found  at  the  jetty  with  one  of  Webb's  men, 


300  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

bound  for  the  cottage  with  some  fish  and  groceries  and 
other  trifles  that  Zaccheus  had  ordered  him  to  procure  and 
deliver  at  the  old  house  on  the  dunes,  with  a  message  that 
"  he  mought  or  he  mought  not  come  ashore  as  the  case 
mought  be." 

It  was  sunset  by  the  time  the  Swallow  ground  her  keel 
upon  the  shore  at  Caister.  A  light  mist  was  stealing  over 
the  hillocks.  The  sea  was  sighing  along  the  sands  in  long, 
low  waves.  Harry  assisted  the  fisherman  to  haul  up  the 
boat.  Charity  Dene  came  down  from  the  cottage,  her 
apron  over  her  head.  "  She  was  main  glad  to  see  the  squire  ; 
and  mighty  sure  as  Miss  Elmira  would  be  the  same.  Miss 
Elmira  had  been  that  lonely  she'd  lighted  a  fire  in  parlor 
and  set  her  a-practicing  of  the  spinet,  and  they'd  'a'  been 
expecting  of  Mistress  Mildred  Hope  ;  so  in  the  meantime 
Miss  Elmira  was  playin'  of  herself  and  had  ben  a-singing 
only  just  that  minnit,  as  she  was  a-hopin'  her  father  ud  be 
comin'  later  on  to  supper." 

And  sure  enough,  while  they  were  walking  up  to  the 
garden  gate,  Elmira's  voice  was  heard  faintly,  and  she  was 
singing, 

"  I  was  down  in  Cupid's  garden, 

For  pleasure  I  did  go, 
To  see  the  fairest  flowers 
That  in  the  garden  grow." 

Elmira  had  heard  that  Harry  Barkstead  had  returned  ; 
but  it  cannot  be  said  for  a  certainty  that  the  fire  in  the 
parlor,  the  new  autumn  dress,  the  bunch  of  flowers  on  the 
table,  and  the  song  of  Cupid's  Garden  were  for  him.  At 
the  same  time  it  was  reasonable  to  expect  he  might  call  ; 
and  David  would  like  his  friend  to  be  fittingly  received. 

Harry  bestowed  upon  the  hand  put  forth  to  greet  him  a 
long  lingering  pressure  ;  and  when  Elmira  protested  that 
he  would  be  shaking  hands  all  night,  he  sighed  and 
exclaimed,  "  Ah  !  if  it  might  be  forever  !  " 


HE  CALLED  IT  LOVE.  301 

Then  he  leaned  pensively  against  the  window  and  looked 
out  into  the  garden,  and  likened  the  drooping  and  frost- 
smitten  flowers  to  his  own  blighted  hopes. 

Elmira  said  she  was  sorry  that  parting  with  David  had 
made  him  so  sad. 

Harry  in  reply  said  he  envied  David  almost  to  hating 
him. 

Elmira  did  not  ask  for  David's  messages,  but  remarked 
that  she  did  not  know  why  Harry  should  envy  David. 
The  gentleman  born  did  not  usually  envy  the  lad  who  came 
of  ordinary  parents,  and  had  his  way  to  make  in  the  world. 
Elmira  said  this  with  a  little  laugh  of  derision. 

Harry  replied  that  love  leveled  all  ranks,  and  that 
beauty  elevated  the  lowliest  swain,  and  with  other  fine 
phrases  gradually  brought  Elmira  round  to  thoughts  of 
Harry  and  not  of  David. 

It  is  true  they  did  speak  of  David.  Every  now  and  then 
Harry  would  drop  a  word  or  two  of  news  from  Bristol — 
how  happy  David  was  at  going,  while  in  his  place  he 
(Harry)  would  not  have  left  the  woman  he  was  going  to 
marry  for  all  the  gold  of  an  Eldorado.  But  David  was  a 
practical  fellow  ;  he  was  like  the  happy  common  people  ; 
he  thought  of  a  house  for  his  love  with  some  bits  of  furni- 
ture ;  was  as  happy  as  Tom,  the  fisherman,  sitting  with  his 
Poll  on  his  knee  the  day  before  the  wedding.  David  sent 
all  kinds  of  fond  messages  ;  oh,  yes,  he  did  that ;  so  did 
one  of  the  sailors  send  his  love  to  Jemima  by  a  rough  chap 
from  Cardiff,  and  there  was  very  much  of  the  same  kind  of 
vulgar  sincerity  in  David's  messages.  "  Tell  Elmira  I 
know  the  sort  of  house  she  likes  ;  tell  her  I  mean  to  take 
her  to  London  for  the  honeymoon  " — poor  chap,  he  would 
be  like  a  fish  out  of  water  in  London — "  ah,  well,  he's  a 
good  boy,  means  well,  and  really  believes  he  is  in  love." 

After  a  little  while,  Elmira,  who  had  begun  by  being 
somewhat  prim,  sat  down  by  Harry,  on  the  old  chintz- 


302  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

covered  sofa,  and  permitted  him  to  hold  her  hand  as  he 
described  London  to  her,  and  Cheltenham,  and  Bath,  and 
then  chatted  of  Paris  and  the  German  spas,  dropping  in  a 
sighing  regret  that  girls  would  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  get 
engaged  to  be  married,  before  they  had  seen  the  world  and 
knew  something  of  life  ;  marriage  brought  troubles  and 
responsibilities;  all"  very  well,  of  course,  when  a  girl  had 
enjoyed  herself  a  little.  And  besides,  how  did  a  girl  know 
whether  she  was  really  in  love  with  a  man  until  she  had 
seen  some  examples  of  the  sex  ?  Fancy  any  girl,  with  any 
pretensions  to  beauty,  confining  her  choice  to  Yarmouth  ! 

"  And  passing  by  the  handsome  and  fascinating  Harry 
Barkstead,"  said  Elmira,  laughing. 

"  If  Harry  Barkstead  hadn't  been  such  a  fool  as  to  let 
his  friendship  for  a  conceited  boy  stand  in  his  way,  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  county  of  Norfolk  would  have  been  in 
his  arms  at  this  moment." 

"  And  who  may  she  be  ?  "  Elmira  asked,  with  a  flash  of 
her  dark  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  witch  !  "  Harry  exclaimed,  slipping  his  arm 
round  her  supple  waist  and  kissing  her,  "  you  will  drive  me 
crazy." 

"  I  think  you  are  already  a  little  gone  in  that  direction," 
said  Elmira,  struggling  to  her  feet,  her  face  flushed,  but 
without  anything  like  anger  in  her  eyes. 

"  Elmira,  I  love  you  !  I  know  I  am  a  scamp  to  say  so. 
I  know  it  is  an  outrage  on  friendship  ;  but  I  can't  help 
it " 

"  O  Harry  !  "  was  Elmira's  only  answer,  though  she 
moved  away  from  the  intended  embrace  that  was  meant  for 
the  conclusion  of  his  declaration. 

"  You  forgive  me,  don't  you  ?"  he  asked,  as  she  evaded 
his  touch. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  see  how  I  can  be  angry." 

"  You  always  knew  I  loved  you  !" 


HE  CALLED  IT  LOVE.  303 

"  How  should  I  know  when  you  never  told  me  ?  " 

"  If  I  had,  would  you  now  be  engaged,  as  he  says  you  are, 
to  David  Keith  ?  " 

"  That  depends." 

"  Upon  what  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  so  many  questions.  Come  into  the  other 
room  ;  Mrs.  Dene  will  think  it  odd,  and  she  is  always 
joking  me  about  you." 

"Is  she?" 

"  Says  I  like  you  best,  and  thinks  you  are  such  a  gentle- 
man !  " 

"  I  am  infinitely  obliged  to  Mrs.  Dene,"  Harry  replied. 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  great  admirer  of  yours." 

"  Before  we  go,  Elmira,  may  I  come  again  later  ?  " 

"  How,  later  ? " 

"  If  your  father  does  not  come  home." 

"  No,  sir,  certainly  not,"  said  Elmira,  her  hand  upon  the 
door. 

"  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  have  said  enough  for  the  present  ?  " 

"  Elmira,"  he  said,  gliding  up  to  her  before  she  had  time 
to  move,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  "  say  you  don't 
hate  me." 

"  Of  course  I  don't,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  say  you  love  me." 

"  Oh  !  that  is  a  very  different  thing,"  she  said,  but  her 
eyes  encouraged  the  kiss  that  he  pressed  silently  upon  her 
lips,  and  as  she  left  him  she  returned  the  pressure  of  his 
hand. 

"  Charity,"  she  said,  "  Mr.  Barkstead  has  some  news  for 
you  from  your  friend  Mr.  David  Keith  ;  "  and  then  she 
went  hurriedly  to  her  room  and  flung  herself  upon  the 
bed. 

After  a  long  talk  with  Mrs.  Dene,  Harry  said  he  must  go, 
and  he  wished  to  say  good  evening  to  Miss  Webb  ;  but 


3°4  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

Elmira  sent  him  word  that  she  had  a  headache  and  he  must 
excuse  her. 

"  Has  she  relented  ?  "  Harry  was  saying  to  himself  as  he 
walked  along  the  road  toward  Yarmouth.  "  I've  known 
impulsive  women  do  so  after  the  most  promising  interview. 
Ah,  well  !  the  chief  pleasure  of  capture  is  in  playing  your 
fish.  Once  fairly  hooked,  Mrs.  Charity  Dene  must  help  me 
with  the  landing  net !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
HARRY  BARKSTEAD'S  LATEST  CONQUEST. 

THE  hours  were  weeks,  the  weeks  years  to  Mildred  Hope 
and  Sally  Mumford  since  David  was  no  longer  at  Hartley's 
Row,  and  was  to  be  seen  no  more  bounding  across  the 
dunes  to  Webb's  cottage,  or  pushing  off  the  Swallow  on 
trips  to  the  Flying  Scud,  or  on  afternoon  sails  with  the 
smack-owner's  daughter. 

They  talked  of  no  one  else,  these  two  women;  except  when 
Mildred  felt  bound  to  remember  her  missionary  duties.  She 
found  Sally  more  than  usually  sympathetic  toward  women 
whose  husbands  were  away  at  sea.  No  tale  of  sorrow  went 
to  Hartley's  Row  without  relief.  Sally  said  whatever  she 
did  she  did  it  because  she  was  sure  it  would  please  David. 

Mildred  upbraided  herself  in  her  own  room  and  upon  her 
knees  for  thinking  so  much  of  David  ;  and  yet,  the  more  she 
tried  to  put  him  out  of  her  thoughts,  the  more  he  would 
obtrude.  This  was  even  so  when  she  was  at  prayers.  Once 
she  had  done  penance  in  a  long  fast  and  an  increased  prison 
duty  on  account  of  a  transient  feeling  of  jealousy  against 
Elmira  Webb.  She  found  the  face  of  David  Keith  coming 
between  her  and  the  church,  thoughts  of  him  taking  place 
of  holy  reflections.  She  took  long  walks  where  he  had 
walked,  encouraged  people  to  talk  of  him,  even  allowed 
Miss  Mumford  to  continue  speaking  of  the  wish  that  David 
had  chosen  her  for  his  wife  instead  of  Elmira. 

Mildred  Hope  was  in  love  with  David  ;  she  would  not 
have  admitted  it  even  to  Sally  ;  nor  would  she  have  denied 
it,  being  charged  with  it.  She  admitted  it  in  her  prayers, 
and  asked  for  forgiveness  ;  for  was  she  not  wedded  to  duty, 

305 


306  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

to  the  service  of  the  Lord  ?  Had  she  not  bound  herself  to 
be  one  of  his  shepherds,  to  watch  over  his  flocks,  to  visit 
the  sick  and  needy,  to  give  up  her  life  to  his  mission  ? 

In  her  most  intense  religious  moods  Mildred  felt  as  keenly 
the  sin  she  believed  she  was  committing  as  any  nun  might 
have  felt  under  similar  circumstances.  And  yet  her  love 
had  sweet,  dreamy  moments  in  which  she  built  castles  in 
the  sunny  air  of  the  dunes,  with  bitter  moments  to  follow 
when  the  winds  blew  from  the  north  and  scattered  them 
with  the  spume  of  the  sea  and  the  red  leaves  of  the  autumn. 

Poor  little  Mildred  Hope  !  Why  will  women  think  they 
are  strong  enough  to  make  vows  and  take  up  duties  in 
opposition  to  impulses  of  the  heart  they  have  never  felt, 
and  under  the  influences  of  which  they  may  fall  at  any 
time  ?  Mildred  could  not  know  her  destiny  any  more  than 
any  other  woman.  She  had  no  right  to  cast  he.r  horoscope 
and  act  upon  her  own  views  of  the  future.  It  had  all  been 
mapped  out  for  her,  no  doubt,  long  before  she  had  any 
ideas  of  her  own.  She  could  be  charitable  and  religious, 
she  could  visit  the  fatherless  and  the  widows  without  vowing 
to  herself  or  to  Heaven  that  she  would  do  nothing  else.  Nor 
was  all  this  benevolent  activity  and  self-sacrifice  incompati- 
ble with  failing  in  love,  nor  with  marriage,  and  yet  Mildred 
went  about  as  if  she  had  committed  a  crime,  a  sacrilege. 

Sally  Mumford  had  sleepless  nights  whenever  the  wind 
blew  more  than  ordinarily,  and  in  all  her  moods  that 
touched  David's  welfare  she  blamed  Elmira  Webb.  David 
would  not  have  gone  to  sea  if  it  had  not  been  to  get  money 
for  her.  She  had  bewitched  him.  The  lad  cared  nothing 
for  money  until  he  knew  her.  Latterly  he  had  thought  of 
nothing  else  but  making  Elmira  a  lady,  buying  her  this 
and  the  other,  talked  of  a  yacht  to  sail  with  her  into  foreign 
ports,  wondered  if  he  would  have  money  enough  to  buy  a 
house  in  London.  She  admitted,  of  course,  that  David 
thought  of  her  too,  and  often  said  his  dear  mother  Sally 


HARR  Y  BARKSTEAD 'S  LA  TEST  CONQUEST.      307 

should  have  a  fine  house  in  Yarmouth  market  place,  with 
as  many  servants  as  Mr.  Petherick,  and  nothing  to  do  ;  and, 
as  Miss  Mumford  put  it,  was  generally  off  his  head  about 
money,  and  all  because  Elmira  was-  a  vain  lass  and  wanted 
gewgaws  and  fine  clothes,  and  to  live  above  her  station, 
and  so  on. 

Autumn  was  passing  into  winter,  and  while  Mildred  and 
Sally  were  hungering  for  news  of  the  Morning  Star,  and 
Sally  was  criticising  Elmira's  conduct,  they  had  suddenly 
to  face  a  wreck  ashore  that  seemed  almost  as  pitiable  a  one 
as  if  David's  ship  had  gone  down.  Miss  Mumford,  in  the 
first  rush  of  feeling,  exclaimed,  "  I  knew  it  would  come  to 
ill ;  our  David  has  had  a  narrow  escape  !  "  and  then  she 
wept  to  think  of  the  blow  it  would  be  to  Zaccheus  Webb, 
the  shock  to  David.  Mildred  had  brought  the  news.  She 
had  been  to  Caister  twice  without  being  able  to  make  any- 
one hear  at  the  cottage,  and  on  the  third  summons  she  had 
seen  Mrs.  Charity  Dene — but  it  will  be  best  to  tell  the 
story  as  it  occurred  ;  it  follows,  in  a  natural  sequence,  the 
previous  chapter,  wherein  Harry  Barkstead  gave  Elmira 
David's  message,  and  his  own. 

It  was  just  before  the  first  snow  fell  upon  the  Eastern 
coast,  making  the  dunes  all  white  and  smooth  ;  it  was  as  if 
nature  had  intervened  to  cover  up  the  tell-tale  treacherous 
footsteps  that  marked  the  flight  of  Elmira  Webb  ;  for  she 
had  fled  with  Harry  Barkstead,  and  no  one  knew  whither. 

Zaccheus  Webb  was  away  at  sea,  detained  by  heavy  gales. 
He  had  put  into  a  distant  port ;  and  Sir  Anthony  Bark- 
stead's  son  had  made  his  latest  conquest  complete.  Day 
after  day  he  had  lingered  at  the  cottage,  and  had  won  over 
as  a  confederate  in  his  suit  of  love  Mrs.  Charity  Dene,  who 
had  sat  complacently  outside  the  parlor  door  to  hear  him  play 
upon  the  spinet  those  old  songs  and  quaint  gavottes  that 
were  full  of  fascination  under  his  pliant  fingers.  He  had 
invited  Charity  to  the  finest  wedding  she  would  ever  see, 


UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

and  so  on,  getting  possession  of  the  foolish  housekeeper's 
sympathy  and  good  word;  while  Elmira  drank  in  his  pictures 
of  the  London  world,  saw  herself  as  Lady  Barkstead,  and 
forgot  her  vows  to  David  Keith,  and  even  her  duty  to  her 
doting  father,  as  girls  have  often  done  before,  and  will  to 
the  end  of  time,  under  the  spell  of  the  seducer's  honeyed 
words  and  right  gallant  promises. 

But  surely  this  pretty  Elmira  Webb  was  born  to  carry  on 
the  heritage  of  misery  that  rests  with  vanity  and  beauty  i 
There  is  one  thing  in  writing  about  women,  in  telling  their 
stories,  the  theme  is  ever  new.  No  two  women  are  alike. 
Under  certain  given  circumstances  you  can  give  a  good 
guess  at  the  conduct  of  the  average  man,  but  not  of  the 
average  woman.  They  love,  hate,  fear,  marry,  or  live  single 
lives,  but  each  with  totally  different  impulses,  feelings,  and 
influences.  You  might  think  you  knew  Elmira  Webb. 
Harry  Barkstead  was  dead  sure  he  knew  her.  Perhaps  he 
did.  Anyhow  you  and  I  would  have  thought  her  pride, 
her  tact,  and  her  common  sense  would  have  sought  protec- 
tion in  a  wedding  ring  before  she  became  the  traveling 
companion  of  Harry  Barkstead,  to  say  nothing  of  dishon- 
oring the  name  and  breaking  the  heart  of  her  most  kind, 
affectionate,  and  devoted  father. 

Elmira  was  born  without  the  capacity  to  be  constant. 
Some  men  have  not  the  faculty  of  friendship.  Harry 
Barkstead  was  a  sensualist.  He  was  led  by  his  passions, 
Elmira  Webb  by  her  vanity.  But  not  by  that  alone.  She 
rejoiced  in  her  beauty.  In  an  Eastern  slave  market  she 
would  have  encouraged  the  bidding.  She  had  no  con- 
science ;  that  is  as  far  as  one  can  judge  by  her  conduct. 
Yet  she  never  vexed  her  father,  was  courteous,  hospitable, 
delighted  in  pleasing  everybody,  and  was  quite  a  thrifty 
hand  at  housekeeping.  What  was  wrong  with  her  ?  who 
can  tell  ?  She  liked  David  Keith,  thought  she  loved  him, 
while  she  laid  her  head  on  his  knee  in  the  Swallow  that 


HARR  Y  BARKSTEAD  'S  LA  TEST  CONQUEST.       309 

night,  when  he  told  her  he  was  going  to  Halifax  ;  but  the 
shadow  of  Harry  Barkstead  falling  across  her  vows,  she 
rejoiced  in  the  competition  for  her  love,  and  thought  of  the 
uninterrupted  flirtation  she  might  have  with  Harry  while 
David  was  away.  A  curious,  contradictory,  pretty,  incon- 
stant, merry,  mischievous,  provoking  daughter  of  Eve,  this 
belle  of  the  Eastern  coast. 

Elmira,  without  indulging  in  any  particular  introspective 
reflections,  did,  in  a  way,  argue  with  the  situation. 

David  was  so  long  away,  and  moreover  Harry  Barkstead 
was  a  gentleman  ;  and  when  his  father  died,  as  he  could 
not  fail  to  do  in  the  course  of  nature,  not  many  years  hence, 
her  lover — who  had  loved  her  all  along  from  his  first  sight 
of  her,  so  he  said — would  take  possession  of  his  estates  and 
title,  and  she  would  be  a  lady.  How  every  marriageable 
girl  throughout  the  county  and  far  away  into  Suffolk,  and 
indeed  even  in  London  town  itself,  would  be  jealous  of 
Lady  Barkstead,  and  she  would  sweep  past  them  in  her 
brocaded  silks  and  splash  them  with  her  chariot  wheels. 

It  was  true,  she  admitted  to  herself,  that  David  loved 
her,  but  how  many  more  might  have  said  the  same  had  she 
given  them  opportunity  ?  She  shut  her  chamber  door  and 
lighted  her  candles,  and  though  she  shivered  in  the  cold 
she  studied  her  charms  before  her  glass  and  tried  on  her 
daintiest  things  ;  and  more  especially  noted  the  flash  of 
the  diamond  cross  that  Harry  had  given  her. 

It  was  a  subtle  thing  ^to  think  of,  by  way  of  a  gift,  a  holy 
cross  set  in  stones  that  caught  all  the  radiance  of  the  sun 
and  stars,  and  seemed,  even  to  Elmira,  to  give  her  eyes  an 
added  radiance.  Oh,  she  admired  herself,  this  rustic 
beauty,  the  fisherman's  daughter  !  She  could  ape  the  fine 
lady  in  her  very  talk  ;  and  she  sang  the  song  her  father  liked, 
and  Mildred  could  only  chide  half-heartedly,  "  It  Was 
Down  in  Cupid's  Garden."  David  she  was  sure  would 
make  an  exacting,  jealous  husband  ;  he  had  a  masterful 


310  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

manner,  and  he  was  over  fond.  Besides,  what  a  hurry  he 
was  in  to  get  her  word  when  he  knew  he  would  be  far  away, 
as  if  he  feared  to  trust  her  until  he  should  return  !  And 
who  knew  that  he  ever  would  return  ?  Harry  had  told  her 
of  their  tiff,  of  David's  boastful  manner,  of  their  walk  to 
Yarmouth  that  night,  and  how  David  had  triumphed  over 
his  gentleman  friend,  for  while  Harry  would  not  deign  to 
let  the  lad  feel  his  inferior  position,  yet  their  stations  were 
far  apart,  and  old  Petherick's  clerk  should  not  have  for- 
gotten that.  Pride  was  a  good  thing  when  there  was  some- 
thing behind  it,  a  name  or  money  or  family  ;  but  who  was 
David  Keith  ?  And  what  ?  With  his  common  foster-mother, 
as  she  called  herself,  and  his  nameless  parentage  ? 

Harry  did  not  say  these  things  spitefully,  but  rather  in 
sorrow,  as  one  who  had  tried  to  be  gracious,  kind,  and  true 
to  a  lad  whom  he  had  liked  for  himself,  apart  from  his  com- 
mon origin.  When  Elmira  turned  upon  him  and  said  her 
station  was  perhaps  no  better  than  David's,  Harry  said 
beauty  was  its  own  dower,  its  own  name,  its  own  rank  and 
fortune.  He  mentioned  lowly  girls  who  had  shared  the 
crowns  of  kings.  His  illustrations  of  the  summits  to  which 
beauty  had  climbed  took  no  note  of  happy  marriages  where 
beauty  and  its  consort  walked  hand  in  hand,  and  on  Sun- 
days sat  together  in  the  church  ;  they  were  theatrical,  the 
tales  of  humble  women  winning  titles  and  wealth,  and  full 
of  bright  and  merry  progresses  though  foreign  lands,  the 
opera  in  Paris,  the  carnival  of  Venice,  the  festivals  of  Rome, 
and  the  routs  and  balls  of  London. 

As  Harry  built  up  .romance  after  romance  for  her  fem- 
inine edification,  Elmira  saw  herself  with  white  shoulders 
and  sweeping  train,  with  hair  that  had  been  dressed  by 
Parisian  artists  in  the  mode,  and  she  felt  around  her  neck 
threaded  beads  of  pearls  and  diamonds.  For  a  fisherman's 
daughter  she  had  a  rare  fancy,  and  a  lively  imagination. 
Once  she  was  launched  in  that  bright,  happy  world  of 


HA RR  Y  BARKSTEAD  'S  LA  TEST  CONQ  VEST.   3 1 1 

wealth  and  show  and  music,  of  humble  servitors  and  gilded 
coaches,  she  felt  that  her  fortune  was  made.  She  had 
always  known  that  she  was  never  born  for  a  humdrum  wife 
such  as  David  Keith  would  assuredly  desire,  with  his  psalm- 
singing  housekeeper-foster-mother,  and  her  praying,  ever- 
lasting sighing  little  Hope  at  her  elbow,  to  take  the  very 
life  and  soul  out  of  every  harmless  jest. 

Mrs.  Charity  Dene  for  one  whole  day  and  night  had  a 
call  to  a  sick  sister  beyond  Ormesby.  Harry  Barkstead 
filled  her  purse.  She  was  very  poor,  and  he  was  "  such  a 
gentleman  ! "  Moreover,  Elmira  vowed  she  would  not 
mind  being  left  alone.  "  Indeed,  dear  Charity,"  she  had 
said,  "  I  shall  like  it  very  much.  Mr.  Barkstead  will  go 
home  to  the  hall,  of  course,  and  even  if  he  did  not,  what 
harm  ?  I  have  assuredly  given  up  all  thoughts  of  David 
Keith,  and  Mr.  Barkstead,  as  you  say,  is  a  gentleman." 

Zaccheus'  man  of  all  work  was  on  board  the  Flying 
Scud.  Elmira  was  the  gracious  hostess  of  the  cottage. 
How  could  she  drive  Harry  Barkstead  away.  Did  he  not 
worship  her  ?  Then  it  was  so  strange  and  pleasant  to  be 
alone  with  your  lover,  secure  from  prying  eyes,  or  the  pos- 
sibility of  interfering  comment.  And  Harry  was  so  bright 
and  merry,  so  natural,  so  handy,  so  handsome,  so  distin- 
guished. He  helped  her  to  make  the  tea,  and  called  it  pic- 
nicking ;  he  built  up  the  winter  fire,  and  called  it  fun. 
Elmira  put  on  her  best  lilac  gown,  and  brought  out  the  old 
china  service  that  had  belonged  to  her  grandmother. 

It  drove  Harry  wild  to  look  upon  her,  so  fresh  and 
happy,  with  her  baby-waisted  gown,  her  dark  blue  ribbons, 
her  rich  brown  hair,  her  white  teeth,  and  her  merry,  tan- 
talizing laugh.  He  had  no  thought  for  the  past  or  the 
future.  He  seemed  to  live  a  century  in  these  short  hours. 
Elmira  was  the  conquest  of  his  rarest  arts,  the  pretty  victim 
to  his  lure  and  bow.  How  well  he  knew  the  coquettish 
ways  of  the  game,  the  flitting  to  and  fro,  the  hopping  from 


312  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

twig  to  twig,  the  twittering  of  song  until  the  trap  fell 
and  the  hunter  had  secured  his  prey. 

"I  have  often  taken  a  hand  at  housekeeping,"  he 
said. 

"  No,  have  you  ?  "  she  replied,  surrendering  some  trifling 
domestic  article  to  be  put  away  on  shelves  or  in  the  shining 
corner  cupboard. 

"  Oh,  yes;  I  love  picnicking,  and  with  such  a  partner,"  he 
went  on,  deftly  helping  her  to  clear  the  table  and  make  the 
hearth  tidy.  "  Oh,  if  you  could  only  have  seen  Jack  Hinton 
and  me  in  the  Australian  bush  !  " 

"  Have  you  been  in  Australia,  then  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Rather  ;  I  should  think  I  have,"  said  Harry.  "  Jack 
Hinton  and  I  lived  in  a  hut  away  in  Western  Australia  for 
over  a  month  ;  made  our  own  beds,  cooked  our  own  food, 
brushed  up  our  own  hearthstone  ;  and  Jack  said  I  was  the 
best  housekeeper  he  ever  came  across.  Poor  old  Jack  ! 
He  is  a  peer  of  the  realm  now,  and  has  given  up  fun  and 
picnicking." 

"  Do  you  mean  he  is  a  lord  ?  "  said  Elmira. 

"Yes,  a  real  live  lord,"  said  Harry. 

"  That's  greater  than  a  baronet,  is  it  not  ?"  she  remarked, 
folding  up  the  table  cloth  and  putting  it  in  the  press. 

"Yes,  but  there  are  rich  lords  and  poor,  my  dear,  just  as 
there  are  rich  baronets  and  poor  ones,  and  unfortunately 
Lord  Surbiton  is  poor.  It's  a  miserable  business  to  be 
poor,  Elmira,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  she  said,  "  not  that  I  have  any  knowl- 
edge of  what  it  is  ;  that  is,  what  they  call  poor  at  Caister 
and  Yarmouth."  . 

"  No,  that  is  what  I  meant,"  said  Harry,  detecting  the 
little  glance  of  pride  that  Elmira  turned  upon  him.  "  I 
mean  compared  with  having  servants  and  carriages  and 
diamonds,  and  being  able  to  do  what  you  like  and  when 
you  like  ;  just  as  you  will,  my  darling,  when  we  drive  about 


HARR  Y  BARKSTEAD  'S  LA  TEST  CONQUEST.       313 

the  world  together  and  show  it  what  beauty  is,  and  that 
there  is  another  Ellen  worth  the  siege  of  another  Troy." 

"  Ellen  ! "  said  Elmira. 

"  She  was  a  famous  beauty  in  the  years  that  are  gone, 
hundreds  of  years  ago,  and  the  greatest  and  bravest  men 
fought  for  her — just  as  I  would  fight  all  the  world  for  you, 
Elmira." 

Then  they  sat  upon  the  old  oak  seat  in  the  ingle  nook 
and  Harry  told  her  far  more  wonderful  stories  than  that  of 
Ellen  of  Troy  ;  for  they  were  of  current  interest,  belonged 
to  the  time  and  its  ambitions,  and  they  foreshadowed  many 
and  new  delights  for  Elmira.  He  also  spoke  of  their  mar- 
riage. That  would  come  all  in  good  time.  Not  at  present, 
he  said,  of  course.  There  was  no  beating  about  the  bush 
as  to  that.  Harry  was  a  bold  wooer.  He  pressed  his  arm 
about  the  girl's  waist  as  he  went  on,  and  she  looked  into  the 
fire  and  listened.  To  marry  at  present  would  ruin  him. 
She  did  not  desire  that,  of  course  ;  love  in  a  cottage  was  all 
very  fine  for  fools,  but  they  knew  better  than  that.  His 
father  was  a  martinet,  and  had  his  views  ;  but,  happily,  if 
the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he  could  not  cut  him  out  of 
the  Ormesby  estate  ;  that  was  his  right.  After  all,  that 
was  only  a  very  small  tithe  of  his  inheritance. 

"  Your  father  would  think  you  lowered  yourself,  I 
suppose,  by  marrying  me,"  said  Elmira,  with  a  flush  of 
pride. 

"  He  has  great  ideas  about  blood  and  pedigree,  and  that 
kind  of  thing." 

"  Well,  so  have  I,"  said  Elmira ;  "  we  come  of  an  old 
stock,  and " 

"My  darling,"  said  Harry,  taking  her  into  his  arms, 
"  you  are  lovely— beauty  is  blood  ;  beauty  is  pedigree  ; 
beauty  rules  the  world  ;  you  are  fit  for  an  empress  ;  you 
are  my  empress,  my  own  !  " 

Elmira  struggled  a  little  to  free  herself  from  Harry's 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

warm  embrace,  but,  as  I  said  before,  he  was  a  bold  wooer 
and  there  were  flickering  shadows  on  the  wall,  and  the  fire 
was  in  gentle  competition  with  the  twilight,  which  should 
most,  or  least,  illuminate  the  room. 

"There,  let  me  be  now,  dear,"  she  said,  straightening  her 
rumpled  hair  ;  "you  are  really  too  bad." 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet,"  he  said.  "  Why  did  selfish  med- 
dling fools  make  ceremonies  and  forms?  I  love  you  ;  you 
love  me  ;  is  not  that  enough  ?  You  do  love  me,  do  you 
not?" 

She  was  standing  by  the  fire,  leaning  against  an  arm  of 
the  settee. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  Harry,  but " 

"  '  But '  is  the  plague,  the  kill-joy  of  youth.  I  want  you  to 
trust  me,  Elmira.  I  swear  to  you  by  all  that  is  good  and  true 
I  will  never  leave  you,  never  be  unkind  to  you,  give  you  all 
you  can  desire,  never  lose  a  chance,  whatever  it  cost,  to 
make  you  happy." 

Then  suddenly  turning  his  face  away,  he  said,  "  As  I  live, 
that  sneaking  little  prison  visitor  has  just  opened  the  gar- 
den gate.  Quick,  fasten  the  door  !  " 

He  hurried  her  into  the  passage,  the  key  was  inside  the 
door  ;  he  locked  it  and  took  out  the  key. 

"  There,"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  "  let  her  knock  until  her 
arms  ache — there  is  no  one  at  home." 

He  stole  his  arm  about  her  and  drew  her  gently  aside  in 
the  shadow,  where  they  could  not  be  seen  or  heard  ;  and 
the  next  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  a  quiet, 
inviting,  apologetic  kind  of  knock.  It  received  no  reply. 
Again  Mildred  tapped  the  door  with  the  handle  of  her  um- 
brella. Harry  laughed  quietly,  and  kissed  his  unresisting 
companion.  The  situation  amused  him.  Perhaps  Mildred 
had  come  with  news  of  David.  So  much  the  better  that 
she  should  not  hear  it.  Rap-rap-rap  on  the  door.  Harry 
made  it  the  signal  to  again  embrace  his  pretty  hostess. 


HARR  Y  BARK-STEAD 'S  LA  TEST  CONQUEST.       315 

She  dared  not  push  him  aside  for  fear  of  making  a  noise. 
Once  more  Mildred  rapped,  and  then  all  was  silence.  She 
had  evidently  gone  away. 

"  It  is  unkind  to  let  her  go,"  whispered  Elmira,  "  she  has 
to  walk  all  the  way  back  to  Yarmouth,  and  might  have  liked 
a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  call  her  ?  "  he  asked,  pretending  much 
alacrity  to  do  so  if  she  wished. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Elmira,  detaining  him. 

"  Ah,  then  you  do  love  me  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  My  sweet, 
my  Elmira  !  " 

The  twilight  deepened  into  night. 

The  firelight  reddened  the  walls  of  the  old  living  room  of 
Webb's  cottage. 

Elmira  closed  the  shutters.  Harry  said  there  was  no 
need  to  light  the  lamp. 

Just  above  the  shutters  where  the  woodwork  left  a  pane 
visible,  a  star  shone  through.  The  hum  of  the  sea  could  be 
heard  without. 

It  was  a  lovely,  starlight  night.  Alan  Keith,  sighing  to 
his  son,  said  it  was  alwa)7s  to-morrow.  But  to-morrow  does 
come  to  many.  It  comes  to  the  bankrupt ;  it  comes  to  the 
condemned  criminal ;  it  came  to  Elmira  Webb  ;  it  had  come 
before  to  Harry  Barkstead  ;  but  this  was  Elmira's  most 
memorable  morrow,  and  it  came  in  with  a  watery  sun ;  it 
came  with  a  sighing  of  the  sea  ;  it  came  with  little  shudder- 
ing winds  across  the  dunes. 

It  was  a  cold  morning,  yet  the  sun  was  shining  upon  the 
cottage.  It  had  been  noticed  by  one  or  two  passers-by, 
friends  of  the  Webbs,  that  the  shutters  were  not  down  at 
ten  o'clock. 

Soon  after  that  hour,  a  man's  hand  cautiously  pushed 
open  the  lattice  of  Elmira's  window,  and  Harry  Barkstead 
looked  out.  The  hollyhocks  by  the  garden  seat  were 
drooping,  the  nasturtiums  were  black  with  frost,  shadows 


3*6  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

were  flitting  over  the  sea,  the  clouds  were  darkening,  the 
sunshine  was  fitful. 

The  blinds  being  drawn,  the  window  was  closed.  The 
same  cautious  hand  that  opened  the  chamber  lattice  now 
undid  the  shutters  of  the  house  place  and  let  in  the  day- 
light upon  a  fire  that  was  still  burning.  Harry  stirred  it. 
He  was  in  his  shirtsleeves.  He  looked  round  for  the 
kettle,  went  into  the  backyard,  filled  it,  and  hung  it  upon 
the  bar  over  the  fire.  Very  prosaic  and  common  all  this 
after  the  sunset,  the  twilight,  the  flickering  shadows  on  the 
wall,  the  romances  of  the  night  before  !  Crime,  villainy, 
deceit,  profligacy,  have  all  their  mean,  common  sides. 

Elmira  now  peered  at  the  morning  from  her  window,  and 
saw  the  same  scene  that  Harry  had  contemplated,  but  with 
different  eyes  and  different  thoughts.  She  began  saying 
good-by  to  it ;  she  knew  she  was  looking  upon  it  for  the 
last  time  for  many  years,  perhaps  for  ever.  The  sentiment 
touched  her  a  moment,  and  she  felt  a  pang  of  remorse  when 
she  thought  of  her  father.  She  was  very  quiet ;  moved 
about  the  room  with  a  sense  of  whispering.  While  she 
dressed  she  laid  aside  certain  things  of  apparel  for  packing. 

Harry  had  roughed  it  many  a  time  on  hunting  expedi- 
tions, and  he  had  lived  under  canvas,  but  he  felt  the  vul- 
garity of  this  morning's  picnic.  He  washed  at  the  pump 
in  the  yard,  made  his  toilet  generally  under  miserable 
conditions,  found  himself  actually  tidying  the  room,  push- 
ing the  gray  ashes  under  the  fire  grate,  and  brushing  some 
crumbs  from  the  kitchen  table.  He  had  the  heart  to  wish 
himself  at  Ormesby  Hall  or  in  his  snug  rooms  in  town. 
Then  he  wished  he  could  recall  yesterday,  and  was  sorry 
for  all  that  had  happened,  not  for  Elmira's  sake,  but  as  the 
profligate  surfeits  with  possession. 

Then  he  heard  Elmira  descending  the  stairs.  He  stepped 
aside,  and  went  for  his  coat.  When  he  returned  she  was 
feeding  a  robin  that  had  perched  upon  the  window  sill. 


HARR  Y  BARKSTEAD  'S  LA  TEST  CONQUEST.   317 

She  might  have  been  the  veriest  saint,  to  look  upon — and 
oh,  the  pity  of  it  !  There  was  an  expression  of  melancholy 
in  her  dark  blue  eyes.  Her  brown  hair  was  gathered  up 
at  the  back  of  her  small  head.  She  wore  a  light  print  dress, 
with  short  sleeves,  and  belted  in  at  the  waist.  A  simple 
brooch  fastened  the  dress  at  her  neck.  She  was  unusually 
pale,  but  her  lips  were  red,  and  they  seemed  to  pout  with  a 
half-grieved  waywardness  that  was  tenderly  expressive, 
inviting  sympathy. 

Harry  took  both  her  hands  in  his  and  kissed  her  white 
forehead,  with  an  incongruous  air  of  respect  and  reverence. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  said,  "  the  robins  are  coming,  it 
will  soon  be  winter." 

A  few  light  particles  of  snow  fell  as  she  spoke. 

"  We  will  go  where  the  sun  shines  always,"  said  Harry, 
"  and  where  the  robins  are  nightingales." 

"  But  first  to  London,  you  said  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  to  London  first." 

Elmira  began  to  move  about  the  room  and  busy  herself 
with  her  domestic  work.  Mrs.  Charity  Dene  being  out  of 
the  way,  Harry  saw  Elmira  in  an  entirely  new  light.  She 
went  about  her  work  in  a  simple,  graceful  way,  a  little  self- 
conscious,  but  as  one  who  brought  an  artistic  charm  even 
into  the  commonplace  business  of  preparing  breakfast. 
Harry  tried  to  help  her,  fetching  and  carrying  in  a  useless 
way,  and  finally  sitting  in  a  corner  of  the  ingle  nook  and 
admiring  his  little  wife,  as  he  called  her,  adding,  "  For  you 
are,  dear,  just  as  surely  as  if  we  had  pledged  ourselves  to 
each  other  in  church  or  chapel."  After  breakfast  they 
walked  across  the  dunes,  away  from  beaten  tracks,  and  all 
day  long  the  snow  fell  at  intervals  between  bursts  of  sun- 
shine. At  sunset  Harry  Barkstead's  man  arrived  with  a 
light  cart  and  carried  away  Elmira's  trunks  ;  and  during 
the  night,  the  snow  hushing  the  tread  of  their  horses'  hoofs, 
Harry  and  Elmira  posted  to  London. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE    COUNTRY    BEAUTY    IN    TOWN. 

ELMIRA  WEBB  had  not  overestimated  her  personal  attrac- 
tions. Unsophisticated  as  she  was  in  regard  to  London 
life,  with  no  practice  in  coquetry  except  upon  such  gallants 
as  came  in  her  way  down  in  Norfolk,  she  had  nevertheless 
pictured  herself  the  leader  in  some  such  set  of  London 
belles  and  beaux  as  Harry  Barkstead  had  described  to  her. 
She  expressed  no  surprise  at  the  London  streets,  the  gay 
equipages,  the  liveried  servants,  the  wond'erful  shops,  the 
aristocratic  bearing  of  the  West  End  crowds.  Anyone 
might  have  thought  she  had  been  accustomed  to  such  sights 
and  such  society  all  her  life.  She  shopped  and  discussed 
millinery  with  the  most  fashionable  modistes  with  perfect 
sang-froid. 

On  her  first  night  at  the  opera  she  created  a  sensation 
among  the  set  in  which  young  Barkstead  was  a  persona 
grata.  Harry  was  both  proud  and  jealous  of  the  admira- 
tion she  excited.  Elmira  was  apparently  innocent  of  the 
fact  that  she  divided  with  the  prima  donna  the  attention  of 
a  large  proportion  of  the  boxes. 

The  town  was  quite  taken  with  the  new  beauty,  so  fresh 
and  young  and  striking.  Elmira  surveyed  the  house  with 
well  acted  indifference,  but  her  heart  beat  fast  and  furi- 
ously with  a  sense  of  triumph.  The  old  house  at  Caister, 
and  Zaccheus  her  father,  were  for  the  time  being  forgotten. 
She  never  once  remembered  David  Keith.  Harry  Bark- 
stead  little  thought  what  a  handful  of  trouble  he  had  under- 
taken in  bringing  the  country  beauty  to  London. 

She  received  every  visitor  with  a  gracious  ease  and  inter- 

318 


THE  CO  UN  TR  Y  BE  A  UTY  IN  TO  IV N.  3 1 9 

ested  geniality  that  captivated  both  men  and  women.  Her 
one  object  in  life  seemed  to  be  to  give  pleasure  to  all  who 
came  within  the  range  of  her  personal  magnetism.  Every 
man  thought  he  had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  her  ; 
every  woman  confessed  that  the  country  girl  was  at  any 
rate  modest  and  unaffected.  Lord  Grennox  was  smitten 
to  the  very  thing  he  called  his  heart.  He  was  twice  Bark- 
stead's  age,  and  had  ten  times  his  wealth.  He  was  a  married 
man,  but  his  wife  was  very  complaisant,  and  "  received  "  in 
a  very  miscellaneous  way. 

Lord  Grennox  visited  Elmira's  box  twice  during  the 
evening,  and  insisted  upon  Barkstead  bringing  mademoiselle 
to  Beulah  House,  which  Harry  did  on  the  very  next  day, 
not  that  he  was  anxious  to  do  so,  but  Elmira  would  not 
let  him  rest  until  he  had  responded  to  his  lordship's  invita- 
tion. Lord  Grennox  was  notorious  for  his  amours.  He 
was,  nevertheless,  a  leader  in  the  fashionable  world,  even  a 
favorite  at  court.  Lady  Grennox  was  one  of  the  most 
charitable  women  of  her  time,  foremost  in  every  benevolent 
work.  Grennox  himself  was  popular  at  White's  and 
Boodle's,  and  he  had  been  known  to  give  a  voluntary  ad- 
vantage to  a  bad  loser,  when  play  ran  high  at  Crockford's. 
On  the  whole  he  was  what  men  called  a  good  fellow,  and 
woman  ."a  very  dangerous  man,  my  dear";  he  knew  as 
little  about  virtue,  and  cared  less,  than  most  men  of  his  class 
in  the  fashionable  world  of  his  time  ;  not  that  the  age  in 
which  we  live  is  overscrupulous  in  condoning  social 
breaches  of  the  moral  laws  that  are  supposed  to  govern 
society.  As  there  was  half  a  century  ago,  and  before  then, 
and  as  there  will  be  no  doubt  in  the  centuries  to  come,  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  bowing  to  virtue  and  passing  it  by. 

There  were  no  half  measures  about  the  peccadilloes  of 
Lord  Grennox. 

Before  Elmira  had  been  in  town  a  month  she  had  taken 
leave  of  Harry  Barkstead  and  sailed  away  to  those  conti- 


320  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

nental  cities  he  had  told  her  of,  under  the  protection  of 
Lord  Grennox.  Why  should  she  consider  Harry  Bark- 
stead  ?  He  had  not  married  her,  nor  did  he  intend  ever  so 
to  do.  She  had  not  bound  her  life  to  his  in  any  way.  He 
had  no  claim  upon  her.  He  had  not  honored  her  with 
his  society  for  her  pleasure  but  for  his  own.  Lord  Grennox 
had  consented  to  settle  upon  her  such  an  income  for  life  as 
would  make  her  independent  of  both  his  lordship  and 
Harry  Barkstead. 

Elmira  had  accepted  his  lordship's  proposal,  and  had 
obtained  proper  legal  assistance  to  insure  the  deed  of 
endowment  being  properly  executed  and  with  bona  fide 
trustees.  She  was  a  woman  of  business,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  had  met  other  women  of  business  in  town  who  had 
given  her  good  advice,  and  men  of  business  too,  one  of 
them  having  relations  with  Norfolk,  and  all  of  them  pos- 
sessed of  a  full  knowledge  of  the  immense  wealth  of  Lord 
Grennox.  She  was  a  born  adventuress,  this  Elmira  of  the 
East  Coast — a  Pompadour,  a  Delorme,  a  Castlemaine ;  she 
would  have  held  her  own  in  competition  with  the  finest 
ladies  of  the  Second  Charles,  as  she  held  her  own  when 
Victoria  was  among  the  most  delighted  of  the  audiences  at 
Covent  Garden  and  Drury  Lane. 

Though  dueling  was  beginning  to  decline  even  among 
army  men  as  a  mode  of  satisfying  wounded  honor,  it  was 
sufficiently  the  mode  to  justify  Harry  Barkstead  in  sending 
a  friend  full  speed  after  Lord  Grennox  with  the  demand  of 
an  immediate  meeting.  Society,  and  certain  journals  that 
reflected  the  worst  phases  of  its  life  and  character,  found 
the  disappointment  of  Barkstead  a  matter  for  much  gossip 
and  amusement  ;  and  of  course  it  was  taken  for  granted 
that  the  young  Norfolk  gentleman  would  not  sit  down 
tamely  under  the  injury  which  he  had  suffered  at  the  hands 
of  the  gayest  and  cleverest  Lothario  of  his  time.  Nor  did 
Harry  intend  to  do  so  ;  but  meanwhile  fate  had  other  busi- 


THE  CO  UN  TR  Y  BE  A  UTY  IN  TO  WN.  3  2 1 

ness  in  store  for  the  false  friend  who  had  matriculated  for 
a  reputation  quite  as  scandalous  as  that  of  Lord  Grennox. 

Harry  received  a  message  from  his  father  to  go  down 
immediately  to  Ormesby  Hall  on  the  pain  of  disinheritance 
and  other  punishments.  So,  while  his  ambassador  of  war 
sped  on  his  way  to  France  and  Italy,  Harry  Barkstead  took 
the  coach  to  Yarmouth,  a  prey  to  the  varied  passions  of 
pride,  hate,  unrequited  love — he  still  called  his  passion  for 
Elmira  love — and  fears  of  bankruptcy.  He  had  of  late  not 
only  far  exceeded  in  his  expenses  the  liberal  allowance  of 
his  father,  but  he  had  contracted  financial  responsibilities 
that  he  could  not  meet  without  a  special  grant,  and  his  bills 
had  begun  to  accumulate  in  hands  the  least  reputable 
among  money-lenders.  What  he  most  feared  however  was 
Sir  Anthony's  anger  over  the  affair  of  Elmira  Webb.  His 
father  was  rich  enough  to  meet  the  financial  claims  that 
pressed  upon  him,  and  had  rescued  him  from  the  accom- 
modating Jews  before  ;  but  he  had  a  personal  regard  for 
the  smacksman  of  Caister,  and  might  bitterly  resent  the 
seduction  of  old  Webb's  daughter.  Harry's  forecast  of  the 
agenda  paper  of  his  sins,  which  his  father — Justice  Bark- 
stead,  as  the  common  people  called  him — had  prepared 
against  him  was  beside  the  mark. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

"  SIR,  YOU    ARE   A    BLACK-HEARTED    SCOUNDREL  !  " 

IT  was  winter  at  Ormesby  Hall  when  Harry  Barkstead 
arrived.  He  had  half  a  mind  to  call  on  Mrs.  Longford- 
West  before  facing  his  father.  A  passing  thought  of  the 
girl  Jessie,  however,  deterred  him.  He  did  not  know  what 
might  have  happened  at  the  Lodge  since  his  interview  with 
Mrs.  Cooper.  He  had  a  sneaking  feeling  of  regard  for 
Mrs.  Longford-West,  badly  as  he  had  treated  her,  and  felt 
no  doubt  that,  when  he  had  got  through  with  his  father,  he 
would  be  able  to  obtain  the  widow's  forgiveness  for  his 
latest  freak.  He  called  it  a  freak  now,  his  running  off  with 
David's  sweetheart ;  counting  in  his  reckless  way  the  heart- 
break of  Zaccheus  as  nothing  more  than  the  misery  he  had 
brought  upon  David  his  friend.  As  for  his  father — well, 
Sir  Anthony  had  been  a  young  man  once,  and  that  must  be 
his  answer ;  at  all  events  he  had  not  disgraced  the  name  of 
Barkstead  by  marrying  some  loose  woman;  he  had  made  no 
mesalliance,  his  name  was  still  clear  from  social  disgrace. 
He  was  seriously  in  debt,  and  had  raised  money  at  a 
ruinous  interest,  but  every  young  fellow  of  means,  preten- 
sions, and  prospects  had  done  that. 

"  I  am  glad  you  saw  the  propriety  of  an  immediate 
response  to  my  summons,"  said  Sir  Anthony,  on  receiving 
Harry  in  the  library  at  Ormesby  Hall. 

Sir  Anthony  spoke  with  his  judicial  manner.  He  looked 
upon  his  son  for  the  time  being  as  a  culprit.  Sir  Anthony 
had  dressed  himself  for  the  occasion.  He  wore  his  tightest 
brown  coat,  his  most  severe  stock,  and  his  bunch  of  seals 

3aa 


"  YOU  ARE  A  BLACK-HEARTED  SCOUNDREL!"    3^3 

rattled  on  his  thigh  as  he  stood  before  the  blazing  fire  and 
contemplated  his  handsome  but  dissipated  son. 

They  were  in  strong  contrast,  the  two  men. 

Harry  was  pale,  his  eyes  sunken,  his  manner  nervous. 
He  had  suffered  mentally  of  late  as  well  as  physically. 

His  father  was  short  in  stature,  thin,  wiry,  his  complexion 
brown  and  a  trifle  ruddy,  his  hair  iron-gray,  his  manner 
alert  though  firm,  and  his  resolutions,  whatever  they  were, 
fixed. 

Harry  gave  back  to  him  his  defiant  gaze,  but  Sir 
Anthony's  eye  was  the  more  steadfast  of  the  two.  He 
spoke  in  a  hard,  set  way. 

"Harry  Barkstead,"  he  said,  "you  are  on  the  road  to 
perdition  ;  you  have  resisted  every  check  that  good  advice 
and  parental  affection  have  offered  to  you." 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  to  have  so  gravely  offended  you,"  said 
Harry. 

"  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  say,  but  it  is  as  just  as  it  is  true. 
Your  ill  conduct  shortened  the  days  of  your  mother." 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  hard  thing  to  say,"  Harry  replied. 

"  But  it  is  a  harder  thing  to  have  justified  it.  You  have 
since  then  made  a  convenience  of  my  affection.  You  have 
used  me.  You  have  disregarded  my  views  for  you  ;  you 
have  made  light  of  my  opinions  ;  you  have  looked  upon  me 
as  you  might  upon  some  cheap  money-lender  ;  and  when 
you  could  trade  upon  my  weakness  no  longer  without  a 
truce,  you  have  come  down  here  and  pretended  a  filial  duty 
you  have  never  felt  and  submitted  to  a  companionship  you 
have  not  cared  for." 

"  My  dear  father,  you  wrong  me.  I  am  a  bad  lot,  no 
doubt,  but  I  have  always  had  a  deep  and  intense  regard 
for  you,  and  a  true  respect  and  gratitude  for  your  kind- 
ness." 

"  There  was  a  time  when  words  such  as  those  would 
have  weighed  with  me  ;  they  do  so  no  longer ;  words  are 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

all  very  well,  but  deeds  are  the  test  of  affection  ;  they 
are  the  tokens  of  filial  love — deeds,  my  son,  deeds  !  And 
what  are  your  deeds  ?  There  are  profligates  and  profligates, 
spendthrifts  and  spendthrifts.  In  your  profligacy  I  find  no 
redeeming  feature  ;  you  are  a  common  seducer  and  a  liar  !" 

"  Father  ! "  exclaimed  the  son,  pale  with  suppressed 
emotion. 

"  You  have  practiced  your  villainies  with  a  systematic 
guile,  and  with  a  vicious  disregard  of  every  manly  senti- 
ment." 

"  By  Heavens,  Sir  Anthony,  I  cannot  listen  to  such  lan- 
guage even  from  you  !  "  said  Harry. 

"  But  by  Heaven  you  shall  listen  !  "  said  Sir  Anthony. 
"  What  sort  of  language  did  you  use  to  entice  Jessie  Barnes 
from  honor,  peace,  and  happiness  ?  Or  were  you  content 
with  mere  promise  and  flattery  ?  I  am  told  that  these 
were  not  alone  the  artifices  you  used  against  that  poor 
orphaned  and  sweet  child.  Sir,  you  are  a  black-hearted 
scoundrel  !  And  by  the  Heaven  you  have  the  audacity  to 
appeal  to,  you  shall  make  restitution  !  " 

While  Harry  winced  at  the  strength  of  his  father's  invec- 
tive he  felt  a  certain  amount  of  relief  in  the  fact  that  the 
storm  was  likely  to  break  upon  the  unimportant  head  of 
Jessie  Barnes.  It  was  evident  that  his  father  had  as  yet 
heard  nothing  of  the  affair  of  Elmira  Webb.  Nor  had  he  ; 
for  truth  to  tell,  no  one  cared  to  mention  it  to  him.  Most 
people  in  Yarmouth,  and  all  about  Caister,  knew  of  it. 
Mrs.  Longford-West  had  heard  of  it  ;  but  Sir  Anthony  was 
perfectly  ignorant  of  what  had  taken  place.  It  was 
nobody's  business  in  particular  to  tell  him  ;  and  nobody 
had  ventured  to  do  so  ;  even  Zaccheus  Webb  had  held  his 
peace  ;  to  him  the  shock  of  his  girl's  base  ingratitude  had 
come  with  a  dull  thud  that  had  left  him  more  or  less  stu- 
pefied. He  had  gone  about  his  work  with  a  lack-luster  eye, 
had  returned  the  "  good-days  "  of  his  friends  and  acquaint- 


"YOU  ARE  A  BLACK-HEARTED  SCOUNDREL!"    325 

ances  with  a  nod  and  a  melancholy  smile,  but  had  said 
nothing,  except  to  Mrs.  Charity  Dene  ;  and  to  her  only  a 
few  words  which  he  repeated  with  little  or  no  variation — 
"  She'll  come  hum,  Mira  will  ;  but  where's  Mas'r  David 
Keith  !  " 

"  What  restitution  ?  "  asked  Harry. 

"  Jessie  Barnes,"  went  on  Sir  Anthony,  without  heeding 
him,  "  was  the  daughter  of  a  soldier  who  died  for  his 
country  in  the  first  American  war  ;  though  only  a  private 
he  came  of  a  good  family ;  his  enlistment  was  a  piece  of 
folly — but  it  was  honorable  folly,  not  vicious  profligacy, 
and  he  left  a  widow  and  one  child  ;  the  widow  was  your 
mother's  care  until  the  poor  woman's  death  ;  the  child  was 
brought  up  by  her  aunt  Mrs.  Cooper  at  Ormesby,  where  I 
gave  her  a  cottage  ;  two  years  ago  Mrs.  Cooper  let  her 
cottage  and  went  to  live  at  Filby  Lodge,  Jessie  having 
grown  into  a  pretty,  gentle,  and  lovable  girl.  Yesterday  a 
child  was  born  at  the  Lodge — you  have  done  me  the  honor 
to  make  me  a  grandfather.  You  will  add  to  that  the 
further  honor  of  giving  me  an  honest  woman  for  my 
daughter-in-law." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Harry. 

"  You  will  marry  this  girl,  and  settle  down  here  at 
Ormesby  as  an  honest  gentleman." 

"  And  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  whole  country  !  Why 
you  might  as  well  marry  your  cook." 

"  By  the  Lord,  sir,  and  had  I  behaved  to  my  cook  as  you 
have  to  this  girl,  I  would  marry  her,  sir.  And  you  shall 
marry  the  mother  of  your  child,  or  you  are  no  longer  a  son 
of  mine." 

"  My  dear  father,"  said  Harry,  "  that  sort  of  speech 
might  do  very  well  for  an  affiliation  case  at  the  sessions, 
but  it  won't  do  for  me." 

"  Won't  it,  indeed  !  And  in  what  respect  are  you  differ- 
ent from  the  men  who  come  before  me  as  a  magistrate  in 


U^DER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

affiliation  cases  ?  They  are  brutes  of  the  field,  ignorant, 
lustful,  poor,  uninformed  wretches,  with  no  control  of  their 
passions,  no  sense  of  the  proprieties  of  life.  Your  crime 
against  this  girl — coming  of  quite  as  honorable  a  family  as 
your  own — remember  that — I  say  your  crime  is  infinitely 
worse  than  theirs  ;  but  fortunately  your  position  enables  you 
to  condone  it,  to  bring  light  out  of  the  darkness,  to  make 
honorable  restitution  ;  and  we  will  set  an  example  to  these 
poor  people  ;  we  will  show  them  that  we  do  not  preach  one 
thing  and  act  another  ;  we  will " 

"  Oh,  look  here,  sir,"  exclaimed  Harry,  seeing  at  a  glance 
the  effect  of  this  humble  conclusion  to  his  career,  and 
having  no  feeling  whatever  for  Jessie  or  her  child,  "look 
here,  sir  ;  this  thing  is  impossible  !  I  am  ready  to  confess 
that  my  conduct  has  been  wicked,  and  I  am  truly  sorry 
that  you  have  not  a  worthier  son  ;  but  marry  the  lodge- 
keeper's  niece — my  dear  sir,  that  is  simply  nonsense  !  " 

"Indeed!"  said  Sir  Anthony,  "she  is  beneath  your 
station,  eh  ?  If  I  consider  her  equal  to  mine,  I  flatter 
myself  that  my  record  is  an  honorable  one,  and  I  might  be 
forgiven  if  I  felt  proud  of  it.  But  yours  !  Why,  you  are 
not  even  honorable  in  your  money  affairs,  let  alone  what 
you  call  affairs  of  the  heart." 

"  Oh,  curse  it  all,  sir,  I  have  heard  enough  ;  I  am  in  no 
mood  to  be  preached  at  as  if  I  was  a  culprit  about  to  be 
sentenced  to  be  hanged  ;  I  know  what  I  have  done  ;  I  have 
said  I  am  sorry  ;  and  I  am  sorry  ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  let 
my  father  in  his  dotage  make  a  damn  fool  of  me  !  " 

"Oh,  I  am  in  my  dotage,  eh?"  said  Sir  Anthony. 
"  Because  I  chalk  out  an  honorable  course  for  you,  because 
I  am  ready  to  forgive  you  on  fair  human  conditions,  because 
a  poor  girl  is  to  be  given  the  rank  and  position  she  has  a 
right  to  at  your  hands,  because  I  have  the  audacity  to  tell 
the  son  who  has  broken  his  mother's  heart  that  he 
shall  not  drag  his  father's  name  in  the  gutter  without  pro- 


"YOU  ARE  A  BLACK-HEARTED  SCOUNDREL!"    Z21 

test,  I  am  in  my  dotage  !     We  shall  see  !     Do  you  deny  the 
charge  made  against  you  at  Filby  Lodge  ?  " 

"  I  deny  nothing  ;  I  say  I  am  sorry." 

"  Do  you  deny  the  paternity  of  Jessie  Barnes'  child?" 

"  No,  and  I  say  I  am  sorry." 

"  I  will  not  remind  you  how  you  brought  about  the  girl's 
ruin,  it  is  a  wicked  story  ;  and  I  repeat  that  there  is  only 
one  way  for  you,  and  that  is  to  make  the  restitution  I 
desire,  and  which  no  honorable  gentleman  at  the  interces- 
sion of  his  father  would  resist." 

"  And  I  say  that  I  will  not  do  it,"  Harry  exclaimed,  with 
angry  defiance. 

"  And  I  say  you  shall,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

"  And  I  say " 

"  Don't  dare  to  speak  again  !  "  said  Sir  Anthony,  step- 
ping toward  him. 

"  I  will  not  be  bullied,  and  I  will  not  be  bounced,"  said 
Harry,  beginning  to  pace  the  room. 

"  I  neither  desire  to  bounce  you  nor  to  bully  you,"  said 
Sir  Anthony,  stepping  back  to  his  former  position  by  the 
fire  and  standing  stiffly  ;  "  I  will  give  you  time  to  consider, 
say  until  to-morrow." 

"  I  require  no  time  to  consider,"  said  Harry;  "  if  I  have 
not  my  dead  mother's  tenderness,  at  least  I  have  her  pride, 

and,   by ,  I    will   not   marry  into  the  families  of  the 

Coopers  and  the  Barneses." 

"  Then  you  leave  this  house,  now  and  forever  ;  I  disown 
you.  You  are  no  longer  my  son.  Go,  sir  !  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Harry,  striding  out  of  the  room,  and 
leaving  his  father  still  standing  firmly  on  the  spot  where  he 
had  delivered  the  uncompromising  sentence. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A    WRECK    ASHORE. 

JUST  about  the  time  when  Harry  Barkstead  was  entering 
the  library  at  Ormesby  Hall  to  meet  his  father,  the  London 
coach  drew  up  at  the  posting  house  in  Yarmouth. 

The  two  most  unexpected  passengers  were  David  Keith 
and  his  father.  They  were  unexpected  at  Hartley's  Row 
for~the  reason  that  news  of  the  loss  of  the  Morning  Star 
had  the  day  before  reached  Mr.  Petherick,  and  he  had  con- 
veyed the  information  to  Miss  Mumford,  who  had  ever 
since  been  in  a  state  bordering  on  despair.  Mr.  Petherick 
had  reason  to  believe  that  a  boat  might  have  been  launched 
with  men  who  had  been  since  picked  up,  David  with  them. 
Mildred  Hope,  in  the  spirit  of  her  name,  undertook  to 
cling  hard  and  fast  to  that  possible  boat.  She  told  Sally 
that  something  in  her  heart  whispered  faith  in  this  belief. 
Mildred,  by  prayer  and  precept,  did  all  she  could  to 
encourage  David's  best  friend  to  think  of  the  boy  as  still 
alive.  But  Sally  remembered  that  she  did  not  wish  David 
to  go  ;  that  he  only  went  to  get  money  for  that  strumpet 
Mira  Webb,  and  so  on  ;  and  nothing  would  comfort  her  ; 
she  knew  her  dear  lad  was  gone,  he  was  too  good  for  this 
world,  and  so  on. 

It  happened  that  the  coach  on  this  occasion  had  few 
passengers,  Alan  Keith  and  David  alighted,  the  former  with- 
out being  known.  David  was  not  expected  ;  but  he 
unwrapped  himself  and  made  himself  known  to  the  land- 
lord and  engaged  a  porter  to  see  after  his  luggage.  He 
did  not  stay  to  introduce  his  father,  who  was  enveloped  in 
furs  and  comforters — a  long,  tall,  strange-looking  person, 

328 


A    WRECK  ASHORE.  329 

with  gray  straggling  hair  and  bright  eyes  sunk  deep  in 
dark  sockets. 

"  We  will  just  have  a  little  brandy,  father,  and  then  I  will 
show  you  the  way  to  Hartley's  Row,  while  I  run  over  to 
Caister  and  fetch  Elmira  ;  it  would  never  do,  you  know,  if 
I  did  not  go  there  first." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Alan,  following  him  into  the  great 
glass  bar,  flashing  with  bottles,  decanters,  and  plate,  a  blaz- 
ing fire  enveloping  them  in  its  genial  glow. 

"Two  brandies  hot,"  said  David,  "  and  have  you  a  gig  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  landlord,  who  had  followed  them  into 
the  bar. 

"  Will  you  put  a  horse  into  it  ?  I  want  to  drive  over  to 
Caister." 

By  the  time  they  had  drunk  their  brandy  the  gig  was  at 
the  door. 

"  Excuse  me  a  minute,"  said  David.  "  Come  this  way, 
father;  "  and  he  took  the  old  man's  arm,  and  led  him  by  a 
back  way  to  Hartley's  Row.  "  You  see  the  house  in  the 
corner  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Alan. 

"  That's  Sally's  house  ;  the  one  next  is  where  Mildred 
Hope  lives.  Tell  them  I  have  gone  to  Caister  to  fetch 
Elmira.  Sure  you'll  be  all  right  ?  " 

"  Reight,"  said  Alan  ;  "  eh,  lad,  I'll  be  reight  enough,  if 
I  dinna  scare  Sally  oot  o'  her  seven  senses."  . 

David  watched  Alan  enter  the  dear  familiar  house  in  the 
corner  of  the  Row,  and  then  darted  back  to  the  inn  and 
jumped  into  the  gig,  which  he  drove  with  a  beating  and 
a  joyous  heart  to  Caister. 

The  wind  was  blowing  with  a  shrewd,  chill  air  across  the 
dunes.  Here  and  there  lay  the  remains  of  a  heavy  snow 
that  had  for  weeks  been  thick  on  the  ground.  The  stunted 
and  draggled  reeds  in  the  dykes  shivered  by  the  half 
frozen  water.  But  David  felt  his  cheeks  glow  with  warmth 


330  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

and  delight.  Everything  was  forgotten  at  the  moment  but 
the  bliss  in  store  for  him.  The  happy  days  of  his  court- 
ship seemed  to  pass  before  him  in  a  sunny  procession,  not- 
withstanding the  wind  and  the  shivering  reeds,  notwith- 
standing the  gray  of  the  ocean  and  the  white  patches  of 
frozen  snow.  His  shipwreck  and  even  his  escape,  the 
meeting  with  his  father,  his  auspicious  hours  in  Venice  ;  he 
only  recollected  any  of  them  for  the  sake  of  telling  his 
story  to  Elmira. 

When  he  reached  the  cottage  he  tied  his  horse  to  the 
garden  gate,  and  pushed  his  way  to  the  front  door.  It  was 
unlatched,  and  in  he  went. 

"  Hello,"  he  shouted,  "  dear  old  Zacky,  there  you  are  !  " 

"  Aye,  there  I  be,  that's  so,"  said  old  Webb,  who  was  sit- 
ting by  the  fire  in  the  house  place,  and  doing  nothing  to  all 
appearance  but  sitting  there  ;  he  was  not  warming  himself; 
he  was  not  smoking. 

"Are  you  not  glad  to  see  me?"  said  David,  a  trifle 
damped.  "  Why,  what's  the  matter,  where's  your  hand  ? " 

"  There  he  be,  Master  Keith,  I  knawed  yo'd  come." 

The  smacksman  took  David's  hand  in  a  listless  way,  and 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  pair  of  sad,  melancholy  eyes. 

"  What's  wrong  ?  "  said  David.     "  Where's  Elmira  ? " 

"She'll  cum  hum,  mak  no  doubt." 

"  Come  home — why,  where  is  she  ?  " 

"That's  what  I  kep  a-sayin'."  He  reached  out  for 
David's  hand.  "  I  knawed  yo'd  come — sea  do  spare  some 
on  us  ;  spared  me  all  these  years." 

Then  he  resumed  his  former  listless  manner,  and  looked 
into  the  fire. 

David  felt  his  heart  sink  as  it  had  sunk  when  he  knew 
that  the  Morning  Star  was  about  to  founder.  He  looked 
round  the  room  and  noticed  that  it  had  lost  its  former 
bright  and  cheerful  appearance.  The  hearth  had  not  been 
swept  up.  The  windows  were  not  shining.  The  curtains 


A    WRECK  ASHORE.  331 

were  draggled.  On  the  dresser  were  left  the  remains  of  the 
breakfast  things.  The  flowerpots  on  the  window  sill  were 
dirt}7  and  the  plants  in  them  were  withered. 

"  Zaccheus,"  said  David,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "what  has 
happened  ?  Where  is  Elmira?" 

"  She  mought  come  hum  to-day,  and  she  mought  stop  till 
Sunday,  it  be  hard  to  say ;  I  reckon  we  mun  wait." 

"Is  there  anybody  else  here  but  you  ?" 

"  We'n  had  some  winter,  and  fishin's  been  mortal  bad,  but 
we  mun't  complain  ;  we'n  be  ole  reight  agen  when  Mira 
comes  home." 

"  My  God  !"  exclaimed  David,  trembling  with  suspense 
and  fear  ;  "where  is  she?  What  has  happened  ?  Listen, 
Webb,  wake  up  ;  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  Wake  up  !  " 

David  slapped  the  old  man  on  the  shoulder.  He  might 
as  well  have  struck  a  post.  The  smacksman  turned  and 
looked  at  David,  and  smiled  with  such  unutterable  sadness 
that  tears  welled  up  into  David's  eyes,  and  he  staggered  to 
a  seat. 

"  Ah,  it's  a  mortal  grief,"  said  Zaccheus,  seeming  to  re- 
alize for  the  first  time  David's  anxiety;  "a  mortal  grief, 
better  yo'd  deed." 

"  S-s-sh  !  What  is  the  grief?  "  David  asked,  sobbing  as 
he  spoke.  "Tell  me,  Zacky.  Is  she  dead,  Elmira,  our 
Elmira  ?  Oh,  my  God,  I  shall  go  mad  !  " 

The  old  man  watched  the  distracted  lad  go  to  the  window 
and  look  out  as  if  he  were  looking  for  a  grave.  Then  he 
returned  to  where  the  old  man  sat,  and  dragged  a  seat  by 
his  side. 

"  Zacky,  dear  old  fellow,  something  awful  has  occurred  ; 
what  is  it,  where  is  Elmira  ? " 

The  old  man  laid  his  hand  upon  David's  arm,  and  then 
suddenly  rose  up  with  a  cry  and  tramped  about  the  room 
in  his  great  boots,  making  the  place  shake. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  David,  following  him  ;  "  tell  me !  " 


332  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

But  Zaccheus  simply  sat  down  again  and  sighed,  and  laid 
his  hand  once  more  upon  David's  arm. 

"Is  there  no  one  in  the  house?"  David  asked  in  a  loud 
voice,  and  going  to  the  staircase  to  repeat  the  question, 
when  he  heard  someone  moving  above,  and  his  heart  beat 
wildly,  but  it  was  only  Charity  Dene,  who  came  down  the 
stairs. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  good  gracious  me  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Well, 
I  never  !  And  they  said  yesterday  in  Yarmouth  you  were 
drowned.  Well,  well !  " 

"What  is  the  matter  here  ?"  David  a'sked. 

"  With  the  master  ?  This  is  his  queer  day,  he's  regular 
daft  a  Saturdays,  it  was  a  Saturday  when  he  come  hum  and 
found  as  she'd  gone." 

"  Who'd  gone  ?  "  asked  David,  as  well  as  he  could,  with 
a  dry  tongue,  that  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 

"  Why,  Elmira,  of  course,"  said  Charity  Dene. 

"  Gone  ?    WThere  ?  "  asked  David. 

"  Why,  gracious  me  !  Don't  you  know  all  about  it?  Should 
ha  thowt  everybody  know'd  by  now." 

"But  you  see  I  have  only  just  returned,"  said  David, 
trembling  as  if  he  had  been  struck  with  a  palsy. 

"  Why,  of  course,  what  a  fool  I  be  for  sure.  She'n  been 
gone  more'n  a  month,  six  weeks,  I  dessay.  Went  off  wi' 
young-  Barkstead  to  London." 

"  Woman,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  David,  staggering 
to  the  stairway,  and  gripping  the  doorpost. 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Why,  eloped,  I  suppose  ;  they  took 
their  luggage  and  went  by  coach." 

"  Married  ? "  David  asked  presently. 

"  Lor,  not  as  I  knows  on,"  said  Charity  Dene.  "  But  there, 
I  mun  get  master  his  tea  ;  will  yo'  stay  and  ha*  some  wi' 
him  ?  It  'ud  be  a  comfort  to  him.  He  isthat  lonely,  nobody 
takin'  no  notice  on  him  except  Miss  Mildred  Hope,  as 
looks  in  once  in  a  blue  moon  to  sit  wi'  him,  and  once 


A    WRECK  ASHORE.  333 

or   twice  have  tea  ;   but   you    looks    very  white  ;  aint  yo' 
well  ? " 

"  Not  very,"  said  David,  pushing  past  her  and  into  the 
garden.  "  Let  me  think  !  "  he  said,  "  Lord  have  mercy 
upon  me ! " 

He  sat  in  the  seat  beneath  the  figurehead  of  the  wrecked 
East  Indiaman,  his  hand  upon  his  heart  as  if  to  keep  it  in 
its  place.  For  a  minute  or  two  he  felt  as  if  he  were  suffo- 
cating. Suddenly  he  rose  up,  and  walked  out  upon  the 
dunes  and  down  by  the  sea.  After  awhile  he  felt  better  and 
returned  to  the  house. 

"  Did  she  go  of  her  own  free  will  ? "  David  asked,  the 
woman  answering  him  while  she  was  cutting  bread  and  but- 
ter,  the  tea  things  being  already  laid. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  Did  he  visit  her  here  for  some  time  first  ?  " 

"  Constant ;  he  was  allers  a-hanging  about  after  her." 

"  Did  Zaccheus  know  !  " 

"  Well,  he  were  a-fishin'  most  of  the  time,  and  when  they 
went  off  together  yo'  see  he'd  been  caught  in  gales  and  'ad 
to  put  into  somewheres  or  other,  and  was  delayed,  and 
young  Squire  Barkstead  he  were  a  bould  wooer,  that  he 
were  !  " 

"  Oh,  curse  you  !  "  exclaimed  David.     "  Damn  you  !  " 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dene.  "  Yo'd  better  mend 
yore  manners,  young  man,  I'm  thinking." 

She  turned  about  to  fling  this  remark  at  her  questioner, 
but  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A  SURPRISE  FOR  HARTLEY'S  ROW. 

"BEG  pardon  !  are  you  Miss  Mildred  Hope?  "asked  a 
tall  strange  man,  encumbered  with  a  fur  coat  and  cap  and 
speaking  with  a  curious  Scotch  accent. 

Alan  Keith,  as  he  entered  the  bright  particular  corner 
where  Sally's  green  shutters,  white  blinds,  and  brass  knocker 
gave  distinction  to  Hartley's  Row,  came  upon  Mildred  shut- 
ting her  own  door,  and  evidently  about  to  walk  over  to 
Sally's. 

He  had  heard  so  much  of  both  women  and  the  locality  of 
their  two  dwellings  that  he  could  not  have  mistaken  the  trim, 
dainty  little  figure  of  the  prison  visitor. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  that  is  my  name." 

"We're  weel  met,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  have  news  o' 
your  freend  David  Keith." 

"  Oh,  have  you  ?  "  was  the  quick  reply,  in  which  there  was 
a  mixture  of  hope  and  apprehension.  "  Is  it  good  news  ? ' 

"  Aye,  I'm  glad  to  say  it  is." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  Mildred  exclaimed  with  fervor. 

"Ye  had  ill  tidings,  I'm  thinking?  " 

"  Yes  ;  oh,  yes.     The  news  came  yesterday." 

"  What  news  ?  " 

"The  loss  of  the  Morning  Star." 

"  Weel,  that's  true  enough  ;  but  our  David  was  saved." 

"  You  don't  know  what  a  blessed  messenger  you  are  !  " 
said  Mildred. 

"  Yet  I  dinna  undervalue  the  tidings  I  bring.  I  suppose 
ye're  thinkin'  o'  Miss  Mumford — Sally — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mildred,  "  but  who  are  you,  sir,  may  I  ask  ? " 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  HARTLEY'S  ROW.  335 

"  I'm  telt  ye're  a  God-fearin'  little  woman,  a  releegious 
lassie,  one  as  can  stand  firm  in  joy  or  sorrow  ? " 

"  I  am  a  humble  servant  of  Christ,"  said  Mildred,  "  but 
only  a  poor  creature." 

"  I  am  Alan  Keith,"  said  the  stranger,  "  David's  father." 

"You  are  proclaiming  miracles  !"  exclaimed  Mildred, 
starting  back  a  pace  or  two. 

"  Weel,  I  dinna  ken  but  you're  reight !  And  it  seems  to 
me  it's  just  providential  that  I  met  you  i'  this  promiscuous 
way,  for  the  reason  that  I  want  you  jest  to  go  into  that 
hoose  wi'  the  brass  knocker,  and  acquaint  Sally  Mumford 
wi'  the  fact  that  not  only  is  David  alive,  was  lost  and  is 
found,  but  that  his  fether  is  alsae  in  the  land  o'  the  livin', 
and  when  she's  in  a  condition  to  see  me  I'll  step  in  and 
assure  her  o'  my  reality." 

"  Yes,  yes — oh,  you  are  very  thoughtful  ! — and  David, 
where  is  he  ? " 

"  He  isna  far  away,"  said  Alan,  with  a  most  grim  kind  of 
wink  that  was  intended  to  be  humorous,  "  there  was  jest  a 
person  he  had  to  see  oot  yander  ;  but  he'll  nae  be  lang — 
and  noo,  Miss  Hope,  gae  and  prepare  the  way  for  me  and 
my  gude  tidings." 

"  I  am  rather  bewildered,"  said  Mildred. 

"  You're  a  bonnie  lassie  !  "  said  Alan.  "  For  a  preachin' 
lassie  you're  just  a  marvel  o'  sweet  looks,  and  a'most 
sweeter  voice.  Besides  it's  vera  cold  ;  gae  in,  lassie,  and 
when  Sally's  equal  to  seein'  guests  and  the  like,  come  ye  to 
the  door." 

Alan  stood  in  the  little  court  for  some  time,  noting  its 
clean  red  bricks,  its  raddled  pots  filled  with  greenery  not- 
withstanding the  nipping  frosts  of  winter.  Stray  beams  of 
sunshine  glinted  in  upon  him.  Then  the  wind  would  rush 
round  an  adjacent  corner  and  ruffle  the  gray  fur  of  his 
coat  collar,  as  if  it  had  some  business  of  identification  on 
hand,  and  was  going  to  carry  the  strange  news  out  to  sea. 


336  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

Presently  Mildred,  in  a  soft,  warm,  dove-colored  dress 
came  to  the  door,  and  Alan  followed  her  into  the  house. 

A  pinched  red-eyed  old  lady  met  him  almost  on  the  door- 
step, and  then  recoiled  as  he  put  out  his  hand. 

"  Heaven  support  me  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  how  you  must 
have  suffered  ! " 

"  And  ye  luke  as  if  ye'd  nae  had  sae  vera  gude  a  time  on 
it,"  was  Alan's  calm  reply. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear,  your  poor  gray  hair,  and  your  hollow 
cheeks  !  Oh,  my  dear,  kind,  abused  master  !  "  Sally  went 
on,  kissing  his  hands  and  weeping  over  them. 

"  My  dear  Sally,  ye  were  once  as  buxom  and  fresh 
as  a  rose  !  but  there,  I  canna  tell  ye  hoo  glad  I  am  to  see 
ye!" 

"  Dear  master  !  my  poor,  kind,  brave  master  !  "  went  on 
Sally,  "and  you've  seen  David  your  son  !  Merciful  God, 
how  mysterious  are  thy  ways  !  " 

"  Aye  ! "  said  Alan.  "  Come  noo,  sit  ye  down,  Sally,  my 
lass,  and  I'll  just  tek  off  these  owerpowering  wraps  that 
David  would  load  me  wi',  for  fear  I'd  be  takkin  cauld,  the 
dear  thoughtful  lad  that  he  is  !  " 

"  I  will  return  by  and  by,"  said  Mildred,  who  felt  her- 
self in  the  way,  and  was  anxious  to  leave  Sally  and  her  old 
master  to  unburden  their  memories  to  each  other  in  private. 

"  No,  my  love,  dont  thee  go.  Eh,  my  dear  master,  ye 
don't  know  what  a  comfort  she's  been  to  me." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do  ;  David  telt  me  all  aboot  Miss  Hope," 
said  Alan,  removing  his  wraps  and  standing  forth  in  the 
quaint  Oriental  garb  that  he  had  worn  in  Venice.  He 
looked  ten  years  younger,  now  that  his  figure  was  more  or 
less  free  from  incumbrance  ;  the  same  hatchet  face,  the 
same  strong  well-shaped  nose,  the  deep  sunken  eyes,  the 
masterful  if  gentle  expression  that  had  attracted  the  artistic 
Venetians  when  first  they  saw  him.  Mildred  felt  awed  in 
his  presence  ;  he  was  different  from  any  other  man  she  had 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  HARTLEY'S  ROW.  337 

seen ;  he  seemed  in  her  untutored  imagination  like  a 
prophet  out  of  the  Bible. 

Sally  could  only  sit  down  and  stare  at  him,  and  sigh  and 
wonder,  until  her  first  surprise  and  amazement  over  she 
asked  for  David. 

The  same  grim  effort  at  optical  humor  that  had  startled 
Mildred  was  Alan's  response. 

"But  where  is  he?  "asked  Sally.  "Did  he  come  with 
you  ? " 

"  Aye,  he  did.     We  came  by  the  coach  frae  London." 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Sally,  "  and  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  bade  me  come  on  here  and  prepare  the  way  for 
him  while  he  went  on  a  little  business  of  his  ain." 

The  same  wink,  with  the  same  ludicrous  results. 

Then  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  Mildred  that  David  had 
gone  to  Caister.  She  glanced  at  Sally,  who  read  her  thought 
and  started  to  her  feet. 

"  Dear  master,  don't  say  he  has  gone  to  Caister  ! " 

"There's  a  person  named  Webb  lives  at  Caister,  eh?" 
was  Alan's  response,  but  this  time  the  wink  was  checked 
halfway  by  an  expression  of  terror  that  distorted  the  face 
of  Sally  Mumford,  which  had  already  been  worn  into  a  per- 
manent expression  of  pain  and  sorrow. 

"  Oh,  where  did  he  say  he  was  going  ?  "  asked  Sally. 

"  To  see  his  sweetheart  and  bring  her  to  complete  our 
family  party,"  said  Alan. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear  !  "  exclaimed  Sally,  bursting  into  tears 
and  hiding  her  head  in  her  apron. 

"  Why,  there's  something  wrang  !  "  said  Alan,  looking 
from  Sally  to  Mildred,  who  had  turned  pale,  but  stood  as 
stiffly  as  a  statue,  gazing  at  Alan. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  her  lips  trembling. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Elmira  is  no  longer  worthy  of  David,"  said  Mildred. 

"  How  ?     Why  ? " 


338  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"She  has  forgotten  him  and  herself,"  said  Mildred. 

"  Nae,  dinna  beat  aboot  the  bush  ;  I  had  begun  to  thenk 
he  was  too  happy — that  I  was  too  happy  !  "  said  the  old 
man  with  a  sigh,  and  stooping,  as  he  spoke,  like  a  man  in  the 
attitude  of  bending  his  back  to  a  blow. 

"  She  has  gone  away  with  a  young  man  called  Harry 
Barkstead." 

"  Good  God  !  he  was  David's  best  friend  !  " 

"  David  thought  so,"  said  Mildred. 

"  She  has  left  her  father  and  her  home,  and  is  living  with 
David's  f riend  ?"  asked  Alan,  turning  his  deep-set  eyes 
upon  Mildred. 

Mildred  simply  said,  "  Alas  ! "  and  looked  upon  the 
ground. 

Alan  thrust  his  long  fingers  through  his  thin  wisps  of 
hair,  dragged  a  chair  toward  the  ingle  nook,  sat  down  and 
looked  into  the  fire  almost  in  a  similar  attitude  to  that  in 
which  Zaccheus  Webb  was  sitting  when  David  found  him. 

"  Disgraced  hersel'  as  weel  as  been  untrue  to  David  ;  is 
that  what  ye  say  ?  "  he  asked,  staring  at  the  crackling  wood 
and  coal. 

"  I  fear  so.  Led  away  by  a  designing  and  wicked  man," 
said  Mildred. 

"His  friend  !"  said  Alan;  "his  friend!  It  will  hurt 
David.  Please  God  it  be  nae  a  mortal  hurt.  His  mother 
was  an  angel — is  an  angel.  I  lost  her — death  took  her. 
Poor  David  !  this  Elmira  Webb  was  his  heart  and  soul — his 
life  and  hope  and  ambition  ;  and  he's  lost  her — he  has  lost 
her,  and  there's  a  loss  that's  worse  than  death  !  What'll  he 
do?  If  they  meet,  there  is  only  one  thing  he  can  do  !  His 
mither  owed  her  death  to  villainy  and  persecution  ;  they 
jest  broke  her  heart  ;  but  I  smote  them  hip  and  thigh  — 
aye,  by  God,  I  did  !  " 

"Sir!"  said  Mildred,  facing  Alan  as  he  rose  up  and 
began  to  put  on  his  cloak,  "  David  is  a  man  of  peace  !  " 


A  SURPRISE  FOR  HARTLEY'S  ROW.  339 

"  Is  he  ?  Let  me  tell  ye,  then,  that  David's  a  man  o' 
war  !  A  life  for  a  life.  Will  ye  deny  him  a  righteous 
vengeance  ? " 

"  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord  ;  I  will  repay,'  " 
answered  Mildred,  and  Sally,  taking  Alan's  hand,  leaned 
her  head  upon  his  arm  and  continued  to  weep  and  sob. 

"  Forgie  me  !  I  amna  used  to  be  amang  women  ;  I'm 
just  bragging  like  some  waster,  besides  forgettin*  a'  the 
misery  that  belongs  to  what's  ca'd  takkin  the  law  into  one's 
ain  hands  ;  but  ye  hae  telt  me  the  saddest  news  I  hae  heard 
for  more'n  twenty  year  !  It  sets  my  auld  heart  beatin'  like 
a  blacksmith's  hammer;  I  maun  gae  into  the  air.  More- 
over, I  maun  find  him.  How  will  I  get  to  Caister  ?  He 
hired  him  a  gig." 

"  I  will  show  you,"  said  Mildred.     "  May  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

"If  ye'll  gae  noo." 

"  I  will,"  said  Mildred,  tying  her  bonnet  under  her  chin, 
and  wrapping  her  thick  gray  cloak  about  her. 

"  I  cannot  be  left ;  I  mun't  be  left  here,"  said  Sally  ; 
"tak  me  wi'  ye  !  But  for  David's  sake  you  shouldn't  be 
sorry  about  Elmira  Webb  ;  she  were  a  bad  lot  at  heart ;  I 
nivver  liked  her  !  " 

"  Eh,  but  David  worshiped  her,"  said  Alan. 

"  Take  me  to  David,"  said  Sally  ;  "  I  must  go  !  " 

Mildred  ran  upstairs  for  Sally's  shawl,  and  a  great  muff 
that  David  had  bought  her,  and  a  boa  for  her  neck,  and 
they  went  forth,  as  the  wintry  sun  was  blown  out  by  a  north- 
west wind  that  was  beating  up  into  a  gale. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

DAVID    KEITH    AND    HARRY   BARKSTEAD    MEET    AGAIN. 

THERE  was  snow  in  the  gale. 

The  first  feathery  messengers  were  flying  about  in  the 
air.  Across  the  sea  the  vanguard  of  the  wintry  storm  was 
marching. 

Neither  David  nor  his  friends  heeded  the  cold.  Nor  did 
Harry  Barkstead,  who  was  riding  into  Yarmouth  from 
Ormesby  Hall,  pondering  his  plans  and  cursing  his  fate. 
He  rode  the  same  mare  that  had  borne  him  proudly  along 
to  Caister  on  that  bright  autumn  day  when  he  galloped  to 
his  conquest  of  old  Webb's  daughter ;  but  the  steed  did  not 
know  her  master  on  this  occasion.  He  rode  her  with  the 
reins  lying  loosely  upon  her  neck.  She  shambled  along  in 
a  lazy,  leisurely  fashion  that  was  very  much  out  of  keeping 
with  her  customary  gait,  and  also  quite  out  of  harmony 
with  the  day,  not  to  say  utterly  uncharacteristic  of  the 
rider. 

The  stubbles,  where  the  gunners  had  tramped  after  their 
game  and  made  blue  wreaths  of  smoke  above  the  browning 
hedges,  were  now  flecked  with  weeds  and  dotted  here  and 
there  with  snow.  The  trees  were  bare.  The  roads  were 
hard  with  frost.  The  toll-house  doors  were  close  shut. 
The  sun  made  feeble  efforts  against  the  gray  clouds,  and 
the  northern  wind  was  driving  them  up  from  the  sea 
attended  by  light  flakes  of  snow,  that  went  about  in  a  weird 
dance,  some  of  them  rushing  into  Harry's  face  without  even 
making  him  wince  or  without  giving  him  the  satisfaction 
that  snow  might  have  brought  to  a  feverish  brow. 

Harry's  thoughts  were  not  retrospective. 

34° 


DA  VID  AND  HARRY  MEET  AGAIN.  341 

His  motto  was  that  the  past  was  done  with  ;  the  future 
had  to  be  taken  care  of. 

What  was  he  going  to  do  ?  Should  he  go  back  to  Lon- 
don at  once  ?  Or  should  he  stay  at  the  Norfolk  in  the  hope 
that  his  father  might  relent  and  send  for  him  ?  That  was 
rather  a  forlorn  hope  at  present,  he  confessed,  seeing  that 
his  father  had  not  yet  heard  of  his  latest  escapade,  had  evi- 
dently not  seen  old  Webb,  or  been  told  the  story  of  Elmira's 
departure  from  Caister,  let  alone  her  trip  to  the  Continent 
with  Lord  Grennox.  Of  course  now  that  the  flood-gates  of 
gossip  would  be  opened  against  him,  Sir  Anthony  would  at 
once  be  made  acquainted  with  the  story  of  Elmira 
Webb. 

Anyhow,  Mr.  Barkstead  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
would  stay  for  the  night  at  the  Norfolk ;  and  having  got 
this  tiny  distance  on  the  highway  of  the  future,  he  touched 
the  horse  with  his  spurs,  took  up  the  reins,  and  cantered 
into  Yarmouth,  not  taking  his  customary  road  whence  he 
could  see  old  Webb's  cottage,  but  going  by  a  more  round- 
about route,  that  took  him  into  Yarmouth  from  a  different 
point. 

While  Harry  Barkstead,  fresh  from  his  father's  denuncia- 
tions, was  riding  toward  the  Norfolk,  David  Keith,  in  a  far 
more  energetic  mood,  was  driving  in  a  similar  direction. 

As  David  had  swept  along  the  highway  among  the  sand- 
dunes  to  Caister  he  had  fairly  laughed  for  joy.  He  had 
almost  been  unable  to  contain  himself,  while  anticipating  his 
meeting  with  Elmira  and  the  blundering  congratulations  of 
Zaccheus.  He  had  even  thought  of  the  delight  it  would  be 
to  Charity  Dene  to  see  him  once  more  in  the  old  house,  this 
time  with  his  arm  rightfully  about  Elmira's  waist. 

Then  he  had  thought  of  how  she  would  get  into  the  gig 
and  sit  by  his  side,  and  how  they  would  drive  triumphantly 
into  Yarmouth,  and  he  would  watch  the  expression  of  his 


342  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

father's  face  when,  introducing  the  beautiful  girl,  he  said  to 
the  old  man,  "This  is  Elmira." 

There  was  surely  never  a  happier  fellow  than  David  on 
his  way  to  Caister,  never  a  more  wretched  one  as  he  drove 
back  again  to  Yarmouth.  Now  he  groaned  in  his  desola- 
tion, bit  his  lips  with  vows  of  vengeance,  cursed  Harry 
Barkstead  beneath  his  breath  as  he  hissed  his  anathemas, 
but  found  no  word  or  thought  of  rebuke  for  Elmira.  Of 
course  the  scoundrel  had  followed  her  about  and  pestered 
her  with  his  attentions,  loaded  her  with  presents,  made  love 
to  her  at  every  opportunity,  taken  advantage  of  her  when 
her  father  was  away  and  when,  no  doubt,  she  thought  he 
(David)  was  drowned  !  He  made  every  excuse  for  Elmira. 
He  saw  in  Harry  the  blackest  hearted  villain  that  mind 
could  conceive  or  imagination  invent. 

The  light  in  David's  eye  was  murderous,  his  lips  drawn 
over  his  strong  teeth,  his  face  livid.  The  snow  wetted  his 
cheeks  as  it  wetted  Harry  Barkstead's,  and  with  as  little 
feeling  or  notice  as  it  drew  from  him.  The  wind  howled 
across  the  dunes.  Now  and  then  a  streak  of  sand,  like 
a  winter  wraith,  fled  across  the  way,  and  a  flight  of  gulls 
from  the  sea  cried  out  against  the  coming  storm.  The 
licensed  victualler's  horse  galloped  along  the  hard  road  as 
if  the  fiend  was  behind  it,  though  David  neither  touched  it 
with  whip  nor  urged  it  with  rein. 

Was  it  something  in  the  fixed  destinies  of  David  Keith 
and  Harry  Barkstead  that  allotted  to  their  horses  the  very 
pace  at  which  they  should  travel  that  the  two  men  might 
meet  as  they  did?  Coincidences  are  supposed  to  be  the 
chief  motives  of  a  fictitious  story,  but  they  are  far  more 
remarkable  in  the  history  of  real  life  than  anything  the 
novelist  can  invent.  There  was  nothing  in  the  least 
unlikely  or  improbable  in  these  two  young  fellows  crossing 
each  other  at  this  momentous  period  of  their  two  young 
lives. 


DA  VID  AND  HARR  Y  MEE  T  A  GAIN.  343 

While  Alan  and  the  two  women  of  Hartley's  Row  were 
making  inquiries  and  procuring  a  carriage  at  the  posting 
house,  David  was  speeding  along  the  North  Road  and  so 
into  the  market-place  ;  and  as  he  entered  it  at  one  end, 
Harry  Barkstead  rode  in  at  the  other.  The  snow  by  this 
time  was  beginning  to  fall  with  a  persistence  that  was  only 
held  in  check  by  the  wind. 

It  was  not  strange  that  Harry  did  not  notice  David 
whom  he  had  come  to  regard  as  dead,  whenever  he  gave 
him  a  thought.  The  moment  David  saw  the  unmistakable 
figure  of  his  whilom  friend,  he  pulled  up  his  horse  and 
leaped  to  the  ground. 

"  Here,  my  lad,"  he  said  to  a  fellow  who  was  standing 
beneath  an  adjacent  archway,  "  take  this  horse." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  stepping  to  the  horse's  head. 

"  Take  the  trap  to  the  posting  house  and  say  I'll  be 
there  directly." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  holding  out  his  hand  for  the 
shilling  that  David  drew  from  his  pocket. 

Pleased  with  the  bright  new  coin,  and  proud  of  sitting 
behind  any  kind  of  a  horse,  the  man  rattled  away  across 
the  stones  toward  the  house  by  the  quay,  and  David 
walked  with  a  steady,  firm  step  to  the  Norfolk,  where  Harry 
was  alighting  from  his  horse,  the  Norfolk  groom  leading  it 
in  beneath  the  archway  where  there  was  a  private  entrance 
to  the  bar. 

Suddenly  Harry  was  pulled  up  by  a  hand  that  took  him 
by  the  shoulder  and  turned  him  round.  Recognizing  that 
the  grip  was  not  a  friendly  one  he  raised  his  lead-loaded 
riding  stock,  and  found  himself  in  a  threatening  attitude 
face  to  face  with  David  Keith. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  surprised  look  and 
stepping  back  a  pace  or  two. 

"  Yes,  who  did  you  think  it  might  be  ? "  David  asked, 
getting  between  Harry  and  the  bar  door. 


344  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"  It  might  have  been  a  Bow  Street  runner,  who  had  mis- 
taken me  for  some  other  villain,"  said  Harry,  rearranging 
the  collar  of  his  coat. 

"  I'm  glad  you  confess  yourself  a  villain,"  said  David, 
"  it  will  save  time  and  explanations." 

"  Will  it  ? "  said  Harry,  backing  still  further  into  the 
yard  under  the  influence  of  David's  aggressive  attitude. 

"Where  is  Elmira  Webb  ?  "  asked  David,  steadying  him- 
self, for  it  was  an  effort  to  mention  her  name. 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer,  flung  back  at  David 
with  something  of  the  defiant  and  threatening  manner  in 
which  the  question  was  put. 

"  You  lie  !  "  said  David. 

Harry  tried  hard  to  stand  firmly  on  the  defensive  and 
to  give  David  back  retort  for  retort,  but  the  weakness 
of  his  cause  hampered  him.  The  knowledge  of  his 
infamous  conduct  qua  this  honest,  trusting  lad  unnerved 
him. 

"  I  ask  you  again,  where  is  she  ?" 

"  I  repeat  I  do  not  know." 

"  And  I  say  again  you  are  a  liar  and  a  coward,"  said 
David,  his  rising  passion  tinging  his  pale  cheeks. 

Harry  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  he  turned  his 
whip-stock  round  and  held  it  handle  downward. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  we  parted,  you  and  I  ?"  David 
asked,  his  lip  trembling. 

"  Yes,  I  remember,  and  to  that  memory  you  owe  it  that 
I  have  not  laid  you  flat  with  this  whip  ;  I  tell  you  now  I  am 
no  more  a  liar  than  you  are,  and  you  can  easily  find  out  if 
I  am  a  coward  !  " 

"  All  in  good  time,"  said  David.  "You  knew  that  when 
we  parted  she  was  engaged  to  be  my  wife." 

"  I  don't  deny  it." 

"  And  you  professed  to  be  my  friend  ?" 

"  I  did,  and  felt  like  it  at  the  time." 


DA  VID  AND  HARRY  MEET  AGAIN.  345 

"  Really  !  "  said  David,  his  lips  paling  with  the  scorn 
they  expressed,  "  really  !  " 

"  It  is  the  truth,"  said  Harry. 

"You  knew  that  I  risked  that  journey  chiefly  for  her 
happiness;  you  knew  that  it  consoled  me  to  think  she  would 
have  a  friend  at  hand  if  she  wanted  one — a  friend  whom 
I  could  trust ;  the  friend  who  went  all  the  way  to  Bristol 
with  me  to  say  good-by,  and  take  my  last  message  back  to 
her  and  the  others  whom  I  loved  !  " 

David  seemed  as  if  he  would  break  down  under  the 
influence  of  his  more  tender  feelings;  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  Harry  thought  the  moment  opportune  to  offer 
explanations. 

"  She  is  not  worthy  of  you,"  he  said. 

"  Who  was  her  tutor  ? "  David  asked,  dashing  the  tears 
from  his  face.  "  Who  in  the  absence  of  her  only  protector, 
her  honest  old  father,  stole  her  away  from  home  and 
honor?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Harry,  now  advancing  toward  David.  "  I'm 
tired  of  these  useless  recriminations,  and  it  is  cold  standing 
out  here  ;  besides,  people  in  the  bar  are  becoming  interested, 
and  it  is  a  pity  you  should  make  an  exhibition  of  yourself." 

"  Answer  me  !  Do  you  think  I  care  who  hears  what  I 
have  to  say  ?  " 

"  Who  stole  her  away  ? "  said  Harry,  repeating  David's 
question  with  a  sneer,  and  stiffening  his  lip  at  the  remem- 
brance of  his  own  grievance  against  the  girl.  "  Stole  her 
away!  Why,  she  was  any  man's  goods  who  had  money 
enough  !  " 

David  for  a  moment  was  stunned  with  Barkstead's  bitter 
and  cowardly  reply  of  justification.  Vilifying  the  girl  he 
had  deceived  to  the  friend  whom  he  had  wronged  was  the 
climax  of  outraged  friendship  and  honor. 

"  Coward  !  "  hissed  David,  approaching  him,  as  if  about 
to  spring  upon  him,  "  liar  !  thief !  blackguard  !  " 


346  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"  Out  of  my  way,  you  fool !  "  exclaimed  Harry,  clutching 
his  loaded  whip  as  he  found  David  once  more  blocking  his 
way  to  the  bar  door  and  with  a  new  light  of  danger  in  the 
lad's  eyes.  Harry  both  boxed  and  fenced,  and  he  watched 
David's  movements  with  the  practiced  skill  of  one  who 
knew  how  to  take  advantage  of  the  smallest  mistake  arising 
from  passion  or  lack  of  art. 

At  the  moment  that  David  reached  out  his  long  arm  with 
the  intention  of  seizing  Harry  by  the  throat,  his  adversary, 
evading  his  touch,  struck  him  a  tremendous  blow  with  the 
handle  of  his  whip. 

David  fell  back  against  the  door,  half  blinded  with  a  rush 
of  blood  from  a  wound  on  the  forehead.  Perhaps  the 
bleeding  was  a  relief.  An  open  wound  at  the  outset  was 
better  for  David  than  a  heavy  bruise. 

Barkstead,  his  passion  now  hot,  and  his  false  pride 
awakened,  advanced  upon  David  to  remove  him. 

"  Out  of  my  way,  I  tell  you  !  "  he  said,  and  the  sound  of 
his  voice  was  like  a  trumpet  to  the  half  stunned  faculties 
of  his  antagonist. 

Crouching  like  a  tiger  and  with  a  wild  cry,  David  sprang 
at  his  enemy,  hitting  him  full  in  the  face,  and  catching  with 
his  left  hand  the  whip-stock  that  Harry  had  once  more 
raised  against  him. 

There  was  a  sharp,  fierce  struggle,  a  desperate  effort  of 
each  to  fling  the  other,  and  from  which  David  emerged  with 
Harry's  bludgeon-like  weapon  in  his  right  hand.  As  his 
foe  gathered  himself  up,  David  swung  the  whip-stock  above 
his  head  and  struck  his  enemy  across  the  face,  and  followed 
up  the  blow  with  another  and  another. 

Sir  Anthony's  wretched  son  fell  upon  his  face.  Losing 
all  control  over  himself,  David  rushed  upon  him  and  kicked 
the  resistless  body  before  the  people  in  the  bar,  who  knew 
the  nature  of  the  quarrel,  had  thought  it  right  to  interfere. 
It  took  half  a  dozen  men  to  hold  the  lad,  who  was  the 


DA  VID  AND  HARR  Y  MEE  T  A  GAIN.  347 

picture  of  wild  despair  and  madness,  the  blood  streaming 
down  his  face,  his  clothes  torn,  his  lips  wet  with  blood  and 
foam,  his  hands  clutching  the  empty  air,  but  gradually 
becoming  limp  as  his  body,  until  he  sank  into  the  arms  of 
his  father,  whom  in  his  fury  he  had  no  more  recognized 
than  he  had  Mildred  or  Sally,  who  arrived  on  the  scene 
just  in  time  to  witness  the  close  of  the  tragedy. 
Harry  Barkstead  was  taken  up  dead. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
THE  WATCHMAN'S  LANTERN. 

HARRY  BARKSTEAD  lay  dead  in  the  clubroom  of  the  Nor- 
folk Hotel. 

At  one  end  of  the  room  two  pillars,  representing  two 
orders  of  architecture,  stood  for  masonic  symbols. 

It  was  the  room  in  which  a  body  of  Freemasons  met 
once  a  month  to  perform  their  mysteries. 

Once  a  year  the  county  ball  was  held  there.  Elmira 
Webb  had  stood  outside  the  Norfolk  Hotel  to  see  the  fine 
ladies  go  in.  She  was  herself  a  fine  lady  now,  the  belle  of 
a  winter  resort  under  the  blue  skies  of  Italy. 

There  was  no  other  room,  thought  the  landlord,  so  fit- 
ting for  the  body  to  rest  in  as  the  dim  old  clubroom.  It 
would  be  convenient  for  the  jury  to  view  the  corpse  and 
handy  for  the  undertaker,  giving,  as  it  did,  directly  upon 
the  courtyard. 

All  the  others  were  more  or  less  engaged.  The  club- 
room  would  not  be  required  until  New  Year's  Day. 

It  did  not  matter  to  Harry  Barkstead  where  his  body 
might  be  lodged  on  this  occasion,  though  in  his  life  he  was 
fastidious,  not  to  say  luxurious  in  his  tastes. 

In  due  course  the  hotel  went  to  rest.  Yarmouth  closed 
its  eyes. 

The  only  wakeful  person  seemed  to  be  the  watchman, 
who,  a  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  stick  in  the  other,  left  his 
box  at  long  intervals  and  announced  the  hour  and  the 
state  of  the  weather. 

"  Twelve  o'clock  and  a  snowy  mornin',"  was  heard  that 
night  by  many  unusually  sleepless  burgesses,  but  it  made  no 

348 


THE   WA  TCH 'MAN'S  LANTERN.  349 

impression  upon  Harry  Barkstead  ;  nor  indeed  was  David 
Keith  conscious  of  the  watchman's  cry.  One  lay  dead, 
and,  according  to  the  latest  accounts  in  bar  parlor  and  tap- 
room and  around  every  winter's  fire  thereabouts,  David 
Keith  was  dying. 

It  was  not  so,  however.  David,  between  white  sheets, 
watched  by  loving  eyes,  tended  by  the  best  medical  skill, 
lay  unconscious  in  his  own  comfortable  bedroom  in  Hart- 
ley's Row.  It  was  a  truckle-bed,  with  white  dimity  cur- 
tains drawn  at  the  head  of  it,  to  shield  the  sleeper's  face 
from  the  firelight  and  the  candle  that  stood  in  a  long 
round  tin  box  with  holes  at  the  sides,  through  which  the 
light  flickered  in  a  furtive  sick-room  kind  of  fashion. 

Over  the  mantel  there  were  three  silhouette  portraits, 
one  of  David,  one  of  Sally,  and  one  of  Elmira  Webb. 
Sally  had  not  dared  to  take  the  latter  down,  even  when  the 
news  came  to  her  of  the  flight  of  David's  sweetheart  with 
his  trusted  friend.  She  had  determined  that  when  David 
came  back  he  should  come  to  his  own  neat  and  daintily 
kept  little  room.  There  were  his  hanging  bookshelf  where 
he  kept  volumes  for  which  there  was  no  place  downstairs, 
his  oak  chest  containing  sea-shells,  pebbles,  a  few  old 
knives,  a  dagger,  a  flint  pistol,  a  bit  of  the  wreck  of  a  ship 
lost  off  the  North  Dunes,  and  other  curiosities.  In  the 
closet  still  hung  the  jacket  he  had  worn  on  his  expeditions 
in  the  Swallow. 

On  the  wall,  facing  the  foot  of  his  bed,  were  florid  and 
shining  figures  of  various  heroes  cut  in  relief  from  printed 
pictures  colored  in  red  and  purple  and  green  and  blue,  and 
embossed  with  gold  and  silver  tinsel,  giving  the  effect  of 
splendid  armor.  William  the  Conqueror,  with  a  powerful 
battle  ax  in  one  hand,  was  defying  the  Black  Prince  in 
iron  spangles,  and  flourishing  a  gigantic  sword.  There 
were  also  representations  of  Julius  Caesar,  Robin  Hood, 
and  "  King  Dick  "  as  Richard  II.  was  invariably  called  by 


35°  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

the  gallant  youth  of  Yarmouth  in  the  heroic  days  of  David 
Keith. 

The  firelight  played  in  a  friendly  way  on  these  familiar 
objects,  but  David  neither  saw  them  nor  it.  By  the 
fire,  as  the  watchman  called  the  hour,  sat  a  silent  figure,  not 
unlike  Don  Quixote,  grim,  bony,  with  a  long  neck  and 
rope-like  sinews,  bright  deep  eyes,  a  long  face,  and  a  firm 
yet  generous  mouth  half  hid  in  a  straggling  mustache  that 
was  mixed  up  with  his  beard,  a  curious,  thoughtful,  kindly, 
strange  looking  old  man.  He  was  taking  his  turn  with  the 
women  who  were  nursing  the  unconscious  lad,  who  lay 
calm  and  still,  with  his  head  bandaged  and  his  lips  almost 
as  pale  as  his  face. 

But,  as  you  will  see,  David  Keith  was  better  off  than 
Harry  Barkstead.  David  did  not  know  that  he  was  better 
off.  At  the  time  when  the  watchman  cried  the  hour  he 
might  have  been  as  dead  as  Harry  Barkstead  so  far  as  he 
knew  ;  but  he  was  much  better  off,  for  all  that. 

Alan,  his  father,  sat  lovingly  and  patiently  at  his  beck 
and  call  when  he  should  wake  to  consciousness.  Moreover 
he  had  a  nice  fire  in  the  room  ;  it  was  his  own  room  ;  the 
old  familiar  dumb  things  he  had  known  in  his  boyish  days 
were  waiting  for  his  recognition  ;  and  below  stairs  one  of 
his  nurses,  in  particular,  was  young  and  loved  him  with  the 
fervency  of  a  first  love  ;  while  the  other,  who  had  been  to 
him  as  a  mother,  only  wanted  to  be  asked  to  lay  down  her 
life  for  him  to  do  it  cheerfully. 

While  Harry  Barkstead  was  abed  in  his  boots,  in  a  cold, 
cheerless  room,  with  ghostly  memories  of  Freemasons 
who  had  been  torn  limb  from  limb  in  olden  days  for 
broken  vows,  with  ghostly  memories  of  bygone  feasts,  with 
ghostly  memories  of  dance  and  song  and  music  from  sweet 
lutes,  and  all  kinds  of  sad  and  happy  occurrences  ;  no 
father  sitting  by,  no  sweet  greeting  awaiting  his  return 
to  consciousness  ;  dead  as  any  of  the  masons  of  old 


THE   WATCHMAN'S  LANTERN.  351 

who  had  handed  down  the  passwords  from  the  days  of 
Solomon. 

Harry  Barkstead  may  perhaps  be  said  to  have  been 
happy  in  one  thing  ;  at  least  he  knew  nothing  of  the  jun- 
ketings and  fine  doings  of  Lord  Grennox  and  the  Lady 
Webb  away  in  the  sunny  climes  where  such  a  night  of 
snow  and  chill  as  had  fallen  upon  Yarmouth  was  impos- 
sible ;  nor  was  he  conscious  of  the  bitter  scorn  with  which 
his  father  regarded  his  life  and  death.  What  Harry  Bark- 
stead's  spiritual  experiences  might  be  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
speculate.  But  his  mortal  body  was  in  a  sorry  state. 

And  outside  these  two  rooms — the  clubroom  of  the 
posting  house  and  the  chamber  in  Hartley's  Row — the 
snow  fell  in  a  steady  downpour.  There  were  no  stars  ;  no 
sky  was  to  be  seen  ;  hardly  a  light  was  visible  in  Yarmouth 
except  the  occasional  flicker  of  the  watchman's  lantern. 

The  snow  fell  all  over  the  land.  It  came  down  in  such 
heavy  flakes  that  it  even  calmed  the  sea.  All  the*  world 
was  hushed.  The  dunes  were  rounded  hillocks.  Never 
indeed  were  they  anything  else  except  when  the  wind  some- 
times blew  them  into  imitations  of  miniature  crags  from 
which  they  soon  fell  again  into  their  native  shapes  ;  but  on 
this  night  of  the  tragedy  at  the  Norfolk  they  were  rounded 
with  snow,  the  valleys  themselves  climbing  up  into  hillocks, 
the  hillocks  covering  every  trace  of  rush  and  reed  that  had 
been  browned  by  autumn  winds  and  torn  by  wintry  gales. 

Along  the  beach  by  Caister  there  was  a  light  in  the 
lookout  station,  and  your  imagination  might  lead  you  to 
see  the  group  of  sturdy  fellows  posted  there,  some  lying 
prone  on  the  benches,  others  sitting  up  and  smoking  their 
pipes,  all  ready  to  go  forth  to  the  aid  of  any  ship  that 
might  be  in  distress.  But  who  could  go  to  the  aid  of 
that  human  ship  who  hung  out  his  light  on  the  Yarmouth 
side  of  the  lookout,  Zaccheus  Webb  with  his  light  burn- 
ing to  welcome  the  prodigal  daughter,  who,  without  any 


35 2  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

thought  of  him,  was  walking  on  flowers  and  basking  in 
sunshine  ? 

Zaccheus  Webb  had  heard  nothing  as  yet  of  the  death  of 
Harry  Barkstead.  Curiously  enough,  he  had  never  once 
thought  of  him.  From  the  moment  that  he  knew  his 
daughter  had  left  Caister,  no  thought  but  of  her  entered  into 
his  mind.  He  blamed  no  one,  desired  no  vengeance,  did  not 
dream  of  following  his  child — he  was  stunned  with  a  great 
blow,  and  he  sat  down  to  wait  for  Elmira's  return. 
"She'll  come  hum,"  he  said,  "  Elmira  will,  all  in  good 
time  ;  she'll  come  hum  !  " 

And  the  watchman  at  uncertain  intervals  went  forth 
from  his  shelter,  muffled  in  a  comforter,  laden  with  capes, 
with  his  slouch  hat  pulled  down  over  his  ears,  and  pro- 
claimed the  flight  of  time. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

THROUGH    THE   VALLEY. 

THE  deep,  unredeemed  shadows  of  the  night  that  lay  so 
heavy  on  the  town  dominated  to  a  great  extent  the  morning 
and  the  evening  of  the  next  day.  Nature  seemed  to  be  in 
sympathy  with  the  gloom  of  the  story  that  was  being  told 
not  now  in  Yarmouth  only,  but  with  variations  along  the 
coast  ;  for  ill  news  travels  apace,  even  with  snow  and  dark- 
ness against  it. 

Yarmouth  paused,  in  the  midst  of  her  preparations  for 
Christmas,  to  listen  to  the  details  of  the  fight  and  to  specu- 
late upon  the  consequences  thereof  to  David  Keith.  Shop 
windows  in  course  of  decoration  with  festive  fruits  and  toys 
were  left  half  finished.  The  snow  interposed,  however,  with 
the  characteristic  embellishment  of  white  drift,  and  here  and 
there  the  window  panes  were  frosted  with  strange  designs. 

The  waits  postponed  their  rehearsals  for  the  time  being, 
and  the  street  hawkers  laid  aside  their  sheets  of  carols  in 
the  hope  of  being  provided  with  more  attractive  verses 
descriptive  of  the  tragedy  of  the  posting  house. 

In  the  general  details  of  the  story,  wherever  it  was  told, 
the  figure  of  Alan  Keith  loomed  up  strange  and  weird. 
It  was  related  how  David's  father  had  suddenly  appeared 
on  the  scene,  a  foreign  looking  stranger  in  foreign  clothes, 
tall  and  gaunt,  like  some  queer  mariner  who'd  sailed  the 
world  round  and  round  to  come  at  last  to  the  East  Coast  to 
find  his  lad  in  trouble  and  to  stand  by  his  side  perhaps  in 
death.  They  were  by  no  means  without  imagination  these 
Eastern  folk,  and  they  could  not  get  away  from  the  unac- 
customed spectacle  of  this  picturesque  and  unusual  old  man. 

353 


354  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

The  beadle  was  busy  summoning  the  jurymen  to  sit  upon 
the  body.  Sir  Anthony  Barkstead  had  listened  to  the  ac- 
count of  the  witnesses  who  would  be  called  at  the  inquest, 
and  all  Yarmouth  was  agreed  that  since  Barkstead  struck 
the  first  blow,  and  that  a  murderous  one,  David  Keith  had 
only  acted  in  self-defense,  and  could  not  therefore  be 
answerable  for  the  death  of  his  opponent.  Mr.  Petherick 
had  indorsed  this  view,  but  one  of  the  egotists  of  the 
Norfork  smoke-room  declared  without  fear  of  contradiction 
that  a  man  who  took  the  life  of  another  was  guilty  of  man- 
slaughter, even  if  that  other  was  a  highwayman. 

Meanwhile  David  Keith  lay,  unconscious  of  all  that  was 
going  on  around  him,  in  the  neat  and  trim  little  bedroom 
that  had  been  daily  aired  and  tidied  in  the  hope  of  his 
return.  No  amount  of  doubt,  no  rumor  of  storm  or  stress, 
no  story  of  gales  or  shipwreck  had  influenced  Sally  Mum- 
ford  in  her  preparations  for  the  dear  lad's  home-coming. 
Her  heart  misgave  her,  but  she  strenuously  battled  with 
her  fears  ;  while  there  was  life  there  was  hope,  and  come 
when  he  might,  his  room  should  be  as  ready  for  him  as 
her  welcome. 

It  was  not  deemed  wise  for  more  than  one  person  at  a 
time  to  be  in  the  sick  room,  seeing  that  pure  air  was  help- 
ful to  the  patient,  so  the  doctor  said.  Miss  Mumford, 
Mildred  Hope,  and  Alan  Keith  therefore  took  it  in  turns 
to  watch  by  the  patient's  side  and  carry  out  the  doctor's 
instructions. 

Alan  Keith,  who  had  been  at  first  regarded  as  somewhat 
eccentric,  turned  out  to  be  a  very  wise,  careful  old  man, 
gentle  as  a  woman,  and  just  as  wise  in  the  art  of  nursing. 
They  grew  to  love  him  devotedly,  both  Sally  and  Mildred, 
so  even  tempered  was  he,  so  religious — so  practical  too, 
and  so  reconciled  to  the  will  of  Heaven.  They  could  not 
see  into  the  old  man's  heart,  or  they  would  have  found  it 
full  of  an  unorthodox  approval  of  David's  slaying  of  the  man 


THROUGH  THE   VALLEY.  355 

who  had  betrayed  his  friendship  ;  but  Alan's  head  came  to 
the  aid  of  his  heart,  and  he  assumed  a  policy  of  gentleness, 
contending  that  his  boy  had  no  vengeful  feeling,  that  he 
would  have  been  satisfied  with  Barkstead's  explanation,  if 
the  young  squire  had  vouchsafed  him  one,  but  since,  instead 
of  that,  Barkstead  had  made  a  murderous  assault  upon  him, 
what  was  he  to  do  but  defend  himself  ?  Old  Petherick  had 
given  Alan  this  judicial  hint,  telling  him  that  David's  safety, 
if  he  recovered,  would  lie  in  the  absence  of  premeditation  ; 
and  happily  there  was  no  evidence  of  any  threat,  and  he 
had  no  weapon  upon  him  when  he  encountered  Barkstead. 
At  the  same  time,  the  law  was  very  jealous  of  the  taking 
of  life  ;  and  it  would  need  all  the  evidence  and  influence 
that  could  be  obtained  in  the  lad's  favor  to  save  him, 
after  he  recovered,  as  they  all  believed  and  hoped  he 
would, 

The  inquest  was  adjourned  from  day  to  day,  until  such 
time  as  David  could  make  his  deposition  ;  for  Petherick 
contended  that  his  deposition  should  be  taken,  his  policy 
being  to  regard  David  as  the  aggrieved  person  in  the  case, 
although  the  other  was  dead.  Magisterial  opinion  was 
rather  for  looking  upon  David  as  a  person  resting  under  a 
grave  charge,  and  therefore  not  to  be  interrogated  ;  and 
such  police  authority  as  existed  outside  the  borough  watch- 
man held  Sally  Mumford's  house  under  surveillance. 

Mildred  Hope  found  time,  between  the  intervals  of  nurs- 
ing, to  attend  to  her  duties  of  charity.  Wherever  she  went 
she  had  good  words  for  David,  and  she  asked  many  of  her 
humblest  dependents  to  pray  for  him.  Mildred  plodded 
through  the  snow  to  the  toll-house  jail  and  read  to  the 
prisoners,  went  to  Sunday  school,  visited  the  sick,  and 
seemed  to  be  endowed  with  fresh  energies  and  power. 
Whether  he  lived  or  died  she  had  the  privilege  of  smooth- 
ing David's  pillow,  and  the  only  time  since  the  moment 
when  he  fell  into  the  arms  of  his  father  that  he  had  seemed 


356  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

to  know  anyone,  he  had  looked  at  her  and  touched  her 
hand.  She  loved  him,  and  now  that  he  was  sick  and  in 
trouble  she  had  ventured  to  confess  her  love — not  to  any 
human  being,  but  in  her  prayers  to  God.  Mildred  did  not 
regard  prayer  in  the  commonplace  orthodox  fashion  of, "  Ask 
and  ye  shall  receive,"  but  as  a  duty  ;  not  in  the  way  of 
petition  so  much  for  strength  to  do  what  was  right  as  a 
vow  to  hold  by,  the  expression  of  a  wish  that  Heaven  might 
think  well  to  grant.  She  had  been  accustomed  for  years 
to  speak  on  her  knees  of  all  that  she  wished  and  desired,  of 
all  she  felt  that  it  was  worthy  to  feel  ;  and  never,  until  the 
bond  between  Elmira  and  David  was  broken,  had  she  con- 
fessed even  to  herself  that  she  loved  David  Keith  ;  indeed, 
when  she  had  been  conscious  of  it,  she  had  rather  regarded 
it  as  a  sin,  and  had  repressed  it,  for  were  not  his  word  and 
his  heart  given  to  Elmira  Webb  ? 

It  is  true  she  had  listened  to  Sally  Mumford  when  David's 
foster-mother  had  declared  she  would  like  to  have  seen  her 
engaged  to  David.  She  had  striven  however  to  discourage 
repetitions  of  Sally's  opinions  and  desires  in  that  direction. 
But  now,  although  David  might  be  drifting  out  with  the 
tide  to  that  last  harbor,  she  was  conscious  of  a  mysterious 
joy  ;  she  dared  to  love  him  ;  she  dared  to  say  so  in  her 
prayers  ;  she  dared  to  lay  bare  her  heart  and  pray  that  it 
might  not  be  a  wicked  thing  to  do. 

It  was  Mildred  who  had  received  Sir  Anthony  Barkstead 
when  he  called  to  inquire  after  David's  condition.  Sir 
Anthony  was  pale,  and  he  spoke  low  and  sorrowfully  ;  but 
he  had  said  to  Mildred,  whom  he  knew  as  the  prison  visitor 
and  with  whose  good  work  he  was  well  acquainted,  that  he 
wished  it  to  be  understood  that  he  did  not  blame  David 
for  what  had  happened.  The  law  of  course  would  take 
its  course,  and  it  was  not  for  him  to  suggest  what  that 
course  might  be,  but  it  was  his  wish,  when  the  lad  was  well 
enough  to  be  spoken  to  concerning  what  had  happened,  that 


THROUGH  THE   VALLEY.  357 

he  should  be  told  how  Harry  Barkstead's  father  exonerated 
and  forgave  him. 

The  law  did  take  its  course.  First  there  was  the  inquest, 
adjourned  until  David  Keith  should  be  out  of  danger. 
The  body  having  been  sufficiently  viewed  by  the  members 
of  the  quest,  Sir  Anthony  took  it  home  to  Ormesby  Hall, 
where  the  poor,  harmless  mortal  thing  was  washed  and  laid 
out  where  its  mother  had  reposed  in  the  first  days  of  her 
long  sleep.  And  presently  the  stern,  hard  look  of  the  mis- 
guided heir  to  an  honored  name  and  a  fine  estate  relaxed, 
and  Sir  Anthony  saw  in  the  softened  features  the  face  of  his 
son  as  he  had  known  it  in  its  innocence,  and  before  the 
funeral  bell  began  to  toll  he  was  reconciled  to  the  dead 
image  of  the  son  he  had  loved,  and  there  were  tears  in  his 
eyes,  and  his  heart  heaved,  as  he  followed  it  to  the  grave. 

"  But  I  must  do  my  duty  to  that  other  one,"  he  said, 
sitting  down  by  his  lonely  hearth,  when  the  day  was  over. 

First,  as  is  recorded  in  the  legal  record  of  the  case,  came 
the  inquest,  its  adjournment,  and  the  burial  of  the  body. 
Then  came  adjournment  after  adjournment  until  David's 
deposition  could  be  taken,  and  it  was  taken  with  the  fear 
of  death  before  his  eyes,  and  fortunately  for  him  the  few 
questions  put  to  him  were  very  simple  and  his  story  was 
amply  corroborated.  While  Mr.  Petherick  had  no  locus 
standi  before  the  court  except  by  the  courtesy  of  the 
coroner,  he  was  an  important  factor  in  formulating  the  evi- 
dence and  drawing  forth  the  points  favorable  to  David. 
The  accounts  given  by  the  lookers-on  who  saw  the  begin- 
ning of  the  altercation,  the  first  blow  struck  by  Barkstead 
and  the  last  by  Keith,  were  very  explicit,  and  tended  net 
only  to  reduce  the  crime  to  manslaughter,  but  even  to 
suggest  the  possibility  of  a  verdict  of  justifiable  homicide, 
though  the  law  at  the  time  was  far  more  severe  than  it  is 
now. 

In  the  end  the  jury,  after  some  discussion  as  to  the  form 


35 8  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

and  presentation  of  their  verdict,  gave  it  as  "  manslaughter 
with  extenuating  circumstances." 

The  coroner  thereupon  issued  his  warrant  for  the  arrest 
of  David  Keith.  In  response  to  this,  medical  evidence 
satisfied  the  authorities  that  David  was  not  in  a  fit  condi- 
tion to  be  removed  from  Hartley's  Row. 

A  few  weeks  later  the  case  came  before  the  magistrates. 
David  was  well  enough  to  plead.  The  case  was  taken  in 
the  chief  magistrate's  room,  a  limited  number  of  the  public 
being  admitted. 

The  evidence  given  before  the  coroner  was  repeated,  and 
the  magistrates  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  their 
duty  to  commit  David  for  trial  at  the  forthcoming  assizes, 
but  they  were  willing  to  take  substantial  bail  for  his 
appearance. 

Sir  Anthony  Barkstead,  to  the  surprise  of  everybody 
present,  thereupon  rose  from  a  seat  with  which  he  had 
been  accommodated,  apart  from  the  magistrates'  table,  and 
offered  himself  as  one  of  David's  sureties,  Mr.  Waveny 
Petherick  at  the  same  time  standing  forward  as  another. 

The  sureties  being  in  every  way  satisfactory,  David  was 
released  to  take  his  trial  at  the  regular  jail  delivery  in 
March. 

"  Permit  me  to  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  great  kindness  in 
this  painful  matter,"  said  Alan  Keith,  approaching  Sir 
Anthony  as  he  was  leaving  the  court. 

"  I  conceive  it  to  be  only  an  act  of  duty,"  was  Sir 
Anthony's  reply. 

The  two  fathers  bowed  to  each  other  and  passed  on 
their  way. 

Mildred  had  watched  the  magistrates'  house  from  afar. 
She  dared  not  trust  herself  in  the  court.  When  she  saw 
David  come  forth  with  Miss  Mumford,  his  father,  and  Mr. 
Petherick,  and  go  toward  Hartley's  Row,  with  many  sym- 
pathizers following,  she  followed  too,  uttering  little  prayers 


THROUGH  THE   VALLEY.  359 

of  thankfulness  that  David  was  better  and  a  free  man. 
She  had  not  reckoned  upon  a  committal  to  the  assizes. 
On  her  way  she  met  Mr.  Petherick  going  to  his  office.  He 
informed  her  of  the  magisterial  decision. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  answering  her  sudden 
expression  of  anxiety,  "  he  is  sure  to  get  off  with  a  very 
light  punishment,  perhaps  with  no  punishment  at  all  ;  if 
you  have  to  count  him  among  the  prisoners  at  the  toll- 
house jail  he  will  not  need  your  visitations  for  long." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A    BAD    DREAM    WITH    A    LOVELY    IMAGE    IN    IT. 

FEBRUARY  had  set  in  with  unusual  suggestions  of  an  early 
spring.  Tufts  of  crocuses  appeared  in  the  flowerpots  that 
filled  every  one  of  the  window  sills  of  Miss  Mumford's 
house  in  Hartley's  Row. 

Alan  Keith  had  already  begun  to  rise  at  an  early  hour 
and  take  long  walks,  revolving  in  his  mind  his  long  cherished 
idea  of  visiting  Newfoundland  and  unearthing  his  buried 
treasure. 

By  the  banks  of  the  Waveny,  and  through  the  meadows 
by  dyke  and  homestead,  he  had  already  heard  the  wood- 
lark  and  the  thrush.  Along  the  beach  the  sea  rolled  in 
with  a  pleasant  sound  of  promise.  Fishing  smacks  came 
and  went  with  every  tide.  On  market  days  the  stalls  were 
brightened  with  the  first  flowers  of  the  year,  and  the  drying 
winds  of  March  began  to  stir  the  dust  long  before  Febru- 
ary was  at  an  end. 

David  was  fast  recovering. 

It  was  noted  by  Sally  Mumford  with  a  grateful  joy  that 
he  said  nothing  of  Elmira.  She  almost  hoped  that  the 
effect  of  his  wound  might  have  been  to  wipe  old  Webb's 
daughter  entirely  out  of  his  memory.  She  had  heard  of 
such  things  happening  as  the  obliteration  of  certain  occur- 
rences in  the  minds  of  men  and  women  who  had  sustained 
hurts  in  fearful  accidents. 

As  David  improved  in  health,  Mildred  Hope  became  shy 
and  reserved.  He  never  failed  to  ask  after  her  whenever 
she  stayed  away  from  the  house  more  than  an  hour  or  two 
at  a  time.  Sally  declared  the  lad  could  not  get  along  with- 


A  BAD  DREAM  WITH  A  LOVELY  IMAGE  IN  IT.      361 

out  Mildred.  Alan  Keith  had  come  to  find  the  girl  a 
necessity.  She  knew  so  many  things,  was  so  deft  with  her 
needle,  so  learned  as  to  geography,  and  so  generous  and 
wise  in  her  views  of  religion — theology  having  of  late 
become  quite  a  serious  subject  with  Alan.  Furthermore, 
her  charities  were  so  remarkable  and  on  so  large  a  scale, 
considering  that  she  was  poor  and  had  no  seemingly  settled 
organization. 

As  for  David,  he  seemed  to  be  awakening  from  a  dream. 
He  mixed  up  the  loss  of  the  Morning  Star  with  the  incident 
of  the  posting  house.  Old  Matt  White,  of  the  Welsh  Back, 
and  Zaccheus,  now  and  then  appeared  to  be  the  same  per- 
son. Elmira  Webb  was  something  to  pity,  not  to  sigh  for  ; 
a  fairy  of  the  mist,  who  had  mocked  him  to  his  shame  ;  a 
something  such  as  old  Matt  White  might  have  seen  when 
he  beckoned  and  waved  imaginary  flags  before  he  flung 
himself  overboard  to  cool  his  burning  face  and  find  a  last- 
ing rest. 

It  was  a  bad  dream  with  a  lovely  image  in  it,  and  a  siren's 
voice  ;  they  no  longer  pulled  at  his  heart ;  and  it  might  be 
that  the  tender  eyes  and  calm,  sweet  face  of  Mildred  Hope 
had  already  begun  their  eclipse  of  the  bold,  handsome, 
defiant  countenance  of  Elmira  Webb. 

One  day  when  Sally  Mumford  had  designedly  left  David 
and  Mildred  alone  in  the  house,  Alan  being  at  Gorleston 
discussing  ships  with  a  skipper  almost  as  battered  as  him- 
self, David  asked  after  Zaccheus  Webb. 

David  was  sitting  in  an  old  armchair  by  the  fire.  Mil- 
dred was  embroidering  a  bodice  for  a  country  lady,  in  the 
interest  of  a  poor  little  cripple  of  Caister.  She  was  in  one 
of  her  happiest  moods,  looked  the  picture  of  an  honest, 
loving  English  maiden;  small  as  to  stature  as  we  know,  but 
with  soft  gray  eyes,  rich  brown  hair,  a  mouth  made  rather 
for  love  than  religious  recluseship,  and  white  teeth  that 
made  her  laughter  lovely. 


362  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

While  he  talked  with  her,  David  looked  mostly  into  the 
fire.  Once  in  a  way  he  turned  to  her  as  if  to  emphasize  a 
question.  Mildred  answered  him  in  a  quiet,  subdued  voice. 
There  was  still  between  the  two,  in  manner,  more  of  the 
invalid  and  the  nurse  than  belonged  to  the  intercourse  of 
neighbors  and  friends. 

The  old  clock  ticked  regularly  in  an  encouraging  and 
soothing  way,  and  the  hot  cinders  dropped  now  and  then 
into  the  firepan  beneath  the  grate  with  a  similar  drowsy 
influence  that  helped  calm  conversation. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  old  Zacchy.  How  is  the  poor 
old  chap  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  bodily,"  said  Mildred. 

"  Still  waiting  ?  "  asked  David,  his  mind,  vrhich  had  kept 
clear  of  the  sad  memory  of  his  return  to  the  cottage,  now 
going  back  to  it. 

"Yes." 

"For  her?" 

"Yes."    • 

"  Still  waiting,  sitting  by  the  fire  and  saying  she'll  come 
home?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Poor  old  Zacchy  !  " 

"  He  rarely  leaves  the  house." 

"I  can  see  him  as  I  saw  him  that  day — shattered,  broken, 
a  very  sorrowful  old  man  ;  it  was  not  he  who  told  me  about 
her." 

This  was  the  first  time  David  had  mentioned  Elmira. 

"  No  ? " 

"  It  was  that  woman  misnamed  Charity." 

This  was  the  first  harsh  word  he  had  uttered. 

"  She  seems  to  be  very  kind  to  the  old  man,"  said 
Mildred. 

"  Yes  ? " 


A  BAD  DREAM  WITH  A  LOVELY  IMAGE  IN  IT.      363 

"  I  have  been  there  very  often,  and  have  always  found  her 
attentive  to  his  wants." 

"How  good  you  are  !  "  David  answered,  looking  at  her. 

"  It  is  easy  to  be  good  when  there  is  so  much  misery 
about,"  said  Mildred,  bending  afresh  over  her  work. 

"  Easy  for  you  to  be  good,"  said  David,  turning  his  face 
once  more  to  the  fire. 

"  You  say  truly,"  she  answered,  "  it  is  easy  for  me  to  be 
good,  but  to  think  of  Mr.  Webb — he  is  good,  yet  his  heart 
is  breaking." 

" '  Keener  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is  to  have  a  thankless 
child,' "said  David;  "  how  true,  how  sad  !  I  will  go  and  see 
Zaccheus  ;  we  will  both  go." 

"  When  you  are  well  enough,"  said  Mildred.  "  You  have 
been  reading  Shakspere  ? " 

"  A  little  !  If  Zaccheus  only  had  a  younger  daughter  to 
comfort  him  ;  he  is  childless,  you  see,  now." 

David  sank  back  in  his  chair  and  put  his  hand  to  his  head. 
The  blow  that  Harry  Barkstead  had  struck  him  with  his 
loaded  whip  was  a  terribly  shrewd  one,  cruelly  aimed, 
viciously  given;  perhaps  Harry  had  noticed  the  murderous 
light  in  David's  face,  and  had  meant  to  anticipate  the 
lad's  attack  ;  David  had  had  a  very  narrow  escape  of 
his  life. 

"  You  have  talked  too  much,"  said  Mildred,  laying  down 
her  work  to  hand  him  a  jar  of  salts  which  the  doctor  had 
recommended  whenever  David  felt  faint,  and  at  the  same 
time  she  reminded  him  that  it  was  time  he  took  the  tonic 
that  had  been  prescribed  for  him. 

David  put  out  his  hand,  not  to  take  the  salts,  but  to  clasp 
his  long  fingers  over  the  white,  soft  hand  that  held  them. 

(t  No,  I  am  not  faint,  I  am  better;  my  memory  is  coming 
back  to  me  in  bounds  ;  some  things  I  am  thinking  of  over- 
come  me  a  little.  Won't  you  sit  by  me,  Mildred  ?  " 


364  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  it,"  she  answered,  drawing  up  her  chair 
by  his  side. 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  pressed  it  fondly,  and  looked 
into  the  fire  once  more,  not  seeing  how  her  color  came  and 
went,  not  feeling  the  quick  beating  of  her  heart. 

"  Dear  Mildred,"  he  said,  "  you  were  good  to  her  because 
I  loved  her.  Yes,  I  know  it  ;  you  could  not  have  loved  her. 
I  know  you  didn't;  you  were  sorry  for  her,  you  tried  to  help 
her,  you  did  it  for  my  sake.  Nay,  do  not  take  your  hand 
from  me,  Sally  has  told  me." 

"  I  never  said  so,"  Mildred  answered. 

"  No,  you  never  would  have  said  it,  I  know  that.  I  always 
knew  you  were  good  and  generous,  but  never  knew  how 
good — how  should  I,  a  thoughtless,  selfish  happy  lad, 
without  any  experience  of  the  world  and  its  ways — how 
should  I  ?" 

"  You  were  never  selfish,"  said  Mildred,  "  and  youth  is 
necessarily  thoughtless  ;  thoughts  come  later  with  sorrow." 

"  What  is  your  highest  ambition,  Mildred  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  know,"  was  the  repty. 

"  I  begin  to  think  I  know  mine,"  said  David, "  but  what  is 
yours,  Mildred  ?  My  father  was  full  of  his  yesterday,  full 
of  it ;  and  if  he  does  not  dream,  and  I  think  he  does  not, 
he  is  a  very  rich  man.  He  loves  you,  Mildred  ;  loves  you, 
he  says,  as  if  you  were  his  own  daughter — and  when  I  get 
free — if  I  do  get  free,  Mildred — he  wants  to  do  something 
for  your  poor  people,  something  to  help  you  fulfill  your 
highest  hopes  ;  he  wants,  he  says,  to  be  Providence  to  your 
prayers,  to  answer  them  with  a  full  hand,  so  that  you  may 
give  with  a  lavish  one." 

"  How  he  loves  you  !  "  said  Mildred,  "  to  think  so  much 
of  your  friend's  ambition.  But  you  said  if  you  obtained 
your  freedom  ?  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  friend,  you  forget  that  I  have  yet  to  stand 
in  the  dock  at  the  assizes,"  said  David,  "  and  it  does  not 


A  BAD  DREAM  WITH  A  LOVEL  Y  IMAGE  IN  IT.     365 

need  a  Shakspere  to  tell  us  the  uncertainties  of  the  law, 
the  Scripture  teaches  us  that.  Who  knows,  perhaps  you 
may  extend  your  prison  ministrations  to  me  !  " 

"  O  David,  you  make  my  heart  ache,"  said  Mildred, 
suddenly,  withdrawing  her  hand  to  cover  her  face  ;  "they 
can  never  send  you  to  such  a  place  as  that !  " 

"  Mildred,"  he  answered,  turning  toward  her  and  bend- 
ing his  head  over  her.  "  it  would  be  heaven  enough  for  me 
if  you  were  there  !  " 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

THE    PATIENCE   OF   ZACCHEUS   WEBB. 

"  YOU'N  a  sight  better  this  mornin',"  said  Charity  Dene, 
"  doan't  say  yo'  baint." 

"  I  dunno,"  said  Zaccheus  Webb,  taking  the  seat  Mrs. 
Dene  placed  for  him. 

"  You  dunno,  but  I  do  ;  weather's  took  turn  for  better, 
yon  old  hunx  o'  your'n  says  fishin's  good  likewise." 

"Aye,  shouldna  wonder,"  replied  Webb,  "  I  dunno  mek 
nowt  much  a  what  you  be  arter,  Charity.  You'n  got  news, 
eh?" 

"  Not  about  her,  no  news  o'  Mira  ;  news  of  him." 

"  Who  ? "  asked  Webb,  as  he  took  the  slice  of  bread 
which  Charity  cut  for  him,  and  laid  a  rasher  of  bacon  upon 
it. 

"  Him  as  killed  t'other  wun." 

"  Aye,  so  he  did,  I'd  forgotten.  'Twere  David  made 
a  boggert  on  him — think  I  seed  un  t'other  night." 

"  Seed  un  ?     Seed  who  ?  " 

"  Boggert  o'  him  as  cum  here  and  made  off  wi'  Mira. 
They  was  reed-cuttin'  at  the  time." 

"  Wish  you'd  go  reed-cuttin'  or  summat,"  said  Charity. 
"  Drink  your  coffee  ;  I  thowt  yo  was  a-comin'  to  your 
senses,  and  you  go  maudlin'  on  wuss  than  ever." 

Mrs.  Dene  talked  to  Zaccheus  as  if  he  were  both  deaf 
and  blind.  He  had  only  recently  come  out  of  what  she 
called  "  his  fit  o'  sittin'  over  fire  and  talkin'  rubbish  to 
hissen." 

"  I  knaw  what  ya's  talkin'  on,"  said  Webb,  drinking  his 
coffee  and  eating  his  bread  and  bacon. 


THE  PATIENCE  OF  ZACCHEUS  WEBB.  367 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  yo'  say 
so;  it  argues  you're  comin'  round.  I  was  a-goin'  to  tell  yo' 
about  case  at  'sizes." 

"  'Sizes  ? " 

"  Doan't  yo'  remember  me  a-tellin'  yo'  all  about  row  at 
postin'  housen  ?  Doan't  yo'  remember  prison  visitor 
tellin'  yo'  ?  " 

"  Missie  Hope  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yo'  remember  her,  do  yo'  ?  " 

"Mildred  Hope,  she  wor  fond  o'  Mira,  she  wor." 

At  thought  of  the  two  girls  as  he  had  seen  them  together, 
Zaccheus  left  the  table  and  set  down  by  the  fire. 

"  Eh,  dear  !  there  ye  go  agen,"  said  Charity  Dene, "  yo'n 
say  no  more  for  a  week.  I'm  gettin'  kinder  tired  o*  this. 
Here,  tek  your  pipe,  you're  an  owd  fool — just  as  yo'  was 
comin'  round  and  all  ! " 

The  woman  filled  his  pipe  and  gave  it  to  him.  He 
looked  up  at  her  in  a  dumb,  distressed  way,  remarking, 
"  I  knaw  all  about  it  ;  doan't  ye  bother  ;  she'll  come  hum, 
Mira  will,  she'll  come  hum." 

"  I  dessay  she  may,  and  I  dessay  she  mayn't,"  said 
Charity,  lighting  his  pipe,  at  which  he  began  to  pull. 

"  Mek  no  doubt  on  it,  all  i'  good  time,"  he  said. 

"  Lord  !  Lord  !  what  a  fuss  about  a  bit  of  a  wench  ! 
Why,  when  I  was  a  gel  it  was  a  common  thing  for  a  lass  to 
run  off,  aye,  and  to  somethin'  even  wuss  than  what  Mira's 
got.  Wuss  !  why,  I  heard  say  at  Norfolk  as  she'd  left 
Squire  Barkstead  for  a  clock,  and  was  a-drivin'  i'  her  car- 
riage  wi'  don't  knaw  how  many  servants  the  like  of  which 
was  fit  for  a  queen.  Well,  she  had  a  way  wi'  her,  had  our 
Mira  ;  it  was  that  imperuous  at  times  as  you'd  'a'  thought 
she  was  brought  up  on  a  nigger  plantation  wi'  a  whip  in 
her  hand,  but  mostly  good-tempered— mostly— that's  true, 
and  such  a  merry  grig.  Not  no  good  a-tryin'  to  keep  a  lass 
o'  that  build  down  here  fishin'  and  muddlin'  about,  not  no 


368  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

kind  o'  use  that.  I  said  so  to  Squire  Barkstead.  And  to 
think  o'  they  two  meetin'  as  they  did  !  And  him  a-killin' 
the  other — leastways,  doin'  of  him  in  a  feight.  But  he 
wor  a  'igh-tempered  un,  that  David  !  And  proud  !  I  should 
think  so  !  " 

"  When  wether  tuk  up  I  said  she'll  come,  not  i'  the  snow 
and  slush,  but  i'  the  sun  wi'  a  westerly  breeze." 

"Yes,  oh,  yes!"  said  Charity  scornfully,  "and  live  at 
hoame,  and  tak'  a  hand  wi'  the  herrin'  curin',  shouldn't 
wonder,  and  help  mek  the  beds  and  mess  about  with  slops 
and  the  like.  That's  reight,  she'll  come." 

"  I  dunno  what  yo  means  'bout  'sizes." 

"  Hello  !  what,  wakkin'  up  again  ?  Well,  I'm  sure  !  Why, 
he  was  tried  at  'sizes  yesterday,  and  Bor  Green  as  brought 
groceries  from  Yarmouth  says  they've  'quitted  un." 

"  Killed  un,  didn't  'e  ?  "  Webb  asked,  looking  round  with 
a  curious  attempt  at  understanding. 

"  Killed  un,  aye,  and  crowner  said  it  was  with  extended 
circumstances,  meanin'  as  t'other  struck  fust  blow." 

"So  I  shouldna  wonder." 

"  Well,  he  was  buried,  and  t'other  was  tried  ;  last  time 
pays  for  all — tried  at  'sizes  David  Keith  for  manslaughter, 
and  jury  said  'Not  Guilty  ! '  " 

"  Not  guilty,"  Webb  repeated,  and  turned  once  more  to 
the  fire. 

"  They  said  at  fust,  the  jury  did,  as  he  was  justified,  but 
judge  he  said  they  mun  put  it  more  explicit,  so  after 
puttin'  yeds  together  a  bit  they  said  '  Not  Guilty';  and  Bor 
David  Keith  he  be  'quitted,  doan't  'e  see,  'quitted  of  the 
whul  things." 

"  David  was  mortal  fond  ;  but  she'll  come  hum,  Mira 
will." 

"  Why,  bless  me,  here  be  Miss  Hope  !  She'll  tell  you  all 
about  it,  and  surely  Master  David  Keith  his  very  self.  Lor, 
sir,  I  axes  your  pardon  !  Last  time  you  was  here  you  was 


THE  PATfE.VCE  OF  ZACCHEUS  WEBB.  369 

upset  and  I  was  upset,  but  I  hadn't  got  reight  hang  o' 
things,  and  truth  is  I  liked  him  better  nor  you,  and  I  couldn't 
help  it,  so  there  !  But  I  meks  my  humble  'pology,  all  the 
same." 

"Don't  mention  it,  Mrs.  Dene,"  said  David.  "I  was 
anxious  at  the  first  opportunity  to  see  my  old  friend." 

"  Here  be  Mas'r  David  Keith,"  said  Charity,  plucking 
Webb  by  the  sleeve. 

Webb  turned  his  head  and  tried  to  fix  his  blinking  eyes 
on  David,  who  drew  a  chair  near  the  old  man  and  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Zacky,  dear  old  friend  ?  " 

"  Knaw  you  ?  Lord  A'mighty,  yas,  I  knaws  yo'  !  She'll 
come,  doan't  yo'  mek  no  doubt.  Knaw  yo' !  Oh,  my 
God  !  " 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  feet,  held  his  hand  upon  his 
heart,  and  began  to  pace  the  room.  Then,  seeing  Mildred, 
he  paused  to  look  at  her. 

"  An  yo'  browt  her  hum  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Mildred,  "  we  must  pray  for  her,  and 
have  patience." 

"  That's  so,  patience,  have  patience  ;  I  can  wait,  I  can 
wait  ;  winter'll  pass  all  i'  good  time." 

Then  he  sat  down  again.  David  took  his  hand.  The 
old  man  smiled  in  a  helpless  kind  of  way. 

"  You  have  let  your  pipe  out,"  said  David,  "  let  me  light 
it  for  you  ?  " 

David  took  the  pipe  and  lighted  it.      Zaccheus  put  it  to 

his  lips. 

"  It  be  true  ? "  he  said   in  a  whisper,  "  yo'  be   Master 

David  Keith  ? " 

"  Quite  true,  old  friend." 

"  Charity  'muses  me  wi'  fables ;  but  I  knaw  yo'  well 
enough,  if  yo'  say  I  baint  dreamin'." 

"  Dreaming,  Zaccheus,  not  a  bit  of  it !  "     David  replied. 


37°  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

"Haven't  we  had  many  a  voyage  on  the  Scud\  Haven't 
I  rowed  the  dingey  many  a  time  to  meet  you  off  Gorleston  ? " 

"  Surely,  surely  !  "  said  Zaccheus,  laying  his  pipe  aside 
and  withdrawing  his  hand  from  David  to  rub  his  palms 
together,  remarking  with  a  chuckle,  "  and  Charity  says  I  be 
stark,  starin'  mad." 

"  She  is  only  joking,"  said  David. 

"  I  knaw,  I  knaw.  She  thinks  I  doan't  knaw  as  Mira  have 
gone  ;  she  thinks  I  doan't  knaw  the  world's  a-goin'  all 
wrong,  and  the  fish  is  a'  caught.  Doan't  tell  me,  I  knaws 
all  about  it." 

He  rubbed  his  wrinkled  hands  together,  smiling  know- 
ingly, but  with  such  a  sad  look  in  his  eyes  that  the  tears 
came  into  David's,  and  he  turned  to  ask  Mildred  to  speak 
to  the  poor  old  fellow. 

But  Charity  Dene  had  beckoned  Mildred  to  the  window 
seat.  Having  answered  Mildred's  many  questions  about  the 
old  man,  she  herself  became  the  interrogator.  Yes,  it  was 
quite  true,  Mildred  said,  that  the  first  finding  of  the  jury 
was  considered  to  be  informal,  although  it  meant  that 
David  had  acted  in  self-defense,  that  his  action  was  justifi- 
able. The  judge  had  instructed  them  that  this  being  their 
opinion — and  the  foreman  said  it  was  their  unanimous 
opinion — their  formal  verdict  should  be  "  Not  Guilty." 
There  was  great  applause  in  court  at  this  ;  and  then  the 
jury  consulted  together,  and  the  foreman  stood  forward  and 
in  answer  to  the  clerk  of  arraigns,  he  said  they  found  the 
prisoner  not  guilty.  There  was  more  applause  in  court  at 
that,  and  David  turned  toward  his  father  with  a  great  sigh 
of  relief  ;  and  the  next  moment  father  and  son  embraced 
each  other,  and  people  shed  tears  as  the  old  man  laid  his 
head  upon  David's  shoulder,  overcome  with  emotion. 

"  Eh  dear,  eh  dear,  just  to  think  of  it !  "  said  Charity 
Dene,  "  and  I've  knowed  a  man  to  be  hanged  for  poachin' !  '' 

"  We  are  all  deeply  thankful  to  God  for  David's  escape, 


THE  PATIENCE  OF  ZACCHEUS  WEBB.  371 

and  shall  never  cease  to  deplore  the  death  of  his  assailant. 
You  have  much  to  regret  also,  Charity  Dene." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Charity,  "and  I  shall  of  course 
never  hear  the  last  of  that.  Measter  Justice  Barkstead  towd 
me  I  ought  to  be  whipped,  and  I  don't  forget  first  words  as 
you  said  to  me  when  yo'  knowed  as  I  left  them  in  the  house 
together ;  but  what  was  I  to  do  ?  He  was  so  oncommon 
pleasant  and  so  rich,  and  paid  me  so  well.  And  what's 
more  I  thought  it  wor  best  thing  for  Miss  Webb." 

"  O  Charity,  you  could  not  have  thought  that ! "  said 
Mildred  quickly. 

"  But  I  did.  It  mought  hev  been  my  blessed  ignorance, 
but  I  did." 

"  You  don't  think  so  now?  " 

"  No,  I  got  over  that,  I'll  allow,  and  I  see  that 
never  no  good  can  come  of  a  bad  action.  Don't  be  angry 
wi'  me,  Miss  Hope,  I  hev  done  my  best  since  then,  and  will 
to  the  end  ;  and  though  I  did  like  young  Squire  Barkstead 
as  was  killed  better  nor  t'other,  I  will  say  I'm  glad  Master 
David  Keith  is  better  than  I  expected  he  mought  hev 
been,  and  I'm  mortal  glad  they  didn't  conclude  to  hang 
him." 

Charity,  while  penitent  to  some  extent  in  regard  to  her 
share  in  the  tragedy,  could  not  feel  sufficiently  kind  to  let 
Mildred  off  without  these  passing  reflections. 

"  David  Keith's  first  wish,  on  being  unanimously  acquitted 
by  a  jury  of  his  fellow-countrymen  and  with  the  approval 
of  the  judge,"  said  Mildred,  "  was  to  see  Elmira's  father  ; 
and  this  is  his  first  outing  during  his  convalescence  ;  for 
you  know  that  he  was  dangerously  wounded,  do  you  not,  in 
that  unhappy  meeting?" 

"  Yes,  I  knowed  that,  and  I  was  main  sorry,"  said  Charity. 

"  And  furthermore  he  wished  to  drive  over  to  the  look- 
out to  see  some  other  old  friends  of  his  and  Mr.  Webb's  ; 
and  when  we  say  good-by  to  you,  David  will  go  and  tell 


37 2  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

the  lookout  men  that  he  is  going  to  present  them  with  a 
new  boat  to  be  called  the  Zaccheus  Webb" 

"  Which  I'm  sure  they  need  one,  and  they'll  be  proud  to 
have  it  ca'd  after  our  master  ;  they  often  comes,  the  men 
do,  to  ask  after  him,  and  some  on  'em  tries  to  hev  a  crack 
wi'  him,  but  they  finds  it  'ard  to  mek  anything  out  of  un, 
and  he  do  look  at  'em  sometimes  that  queer  as  you  doesn't 
knaw  whether  to  laugh  or  cry." 

"  Who  is  managing  his  business  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  there  baint  much  management  in  it. 
That  owd  hunx  William  does  his  best,  and  lookout  cap'n 
he  gives  a  sort  of  hand  to  it,  and  Mr.  Petherick  be  a-takin' 
an  interest  in  things." 

"  Then  you  may  be  sure  the  best  will  be  done  that  can  be 
done  in  that  direction,"  said  Mildred. 

"  I  tek  that  for  granted,  and  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me  for 
sayin'  you  looks  hearty,  miss,  and  I  hope  as  prisoners  and 
other  poor  folk  is  doing  pretty  well  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mildred,  "  I  wish  I  could  do  more  for 
them,"  moving  toward  the  fire,  as  David  rose  to  take  leave 
of  Zaccheus. 

"  I  must  say  good-by  now,"  said  David,  laying  his  hand 
upon  the  old  man's  arm. 

"  David  Keith,"  muttered  Zaccheus,  "  made  for  a  sailor, 
mortal  fond  o'  Mira." 

"  Good-by,  old  friend." 

Zaccheus  held  David's  hand. 

"  It  was  while  the  Scud  was  laid  up  i'  Boston,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  David  replied,  "  try  and  think  when  we  used  to 
sit  in  the  garden  and  talk  of  ships  at  sea  and  first  signs  of 
the  herring." 

"  I  meant  it  to  have  been  a  fine  weddin'  when  David  come 
back — David  Keith,  young  lawyer  chap  as  aimed  to  be 
fisherman  ;  but  there,  yo'  nivver  knaw  how  weather's  goin' 
to  be  wi'  glass  shiftin'  up  and  down  like  a  skip-jack." 


THE  PATIENCE  OF  ZACCtfEUS  WEBB.  373 

"  It  will  be  settled  weather  soon,"  said  David,  "  then  I'll 
come  back  and  Mildred  will  come,  and  we  will  put  to  sea  in 
a  three-master  and  sail  right  into  the  sunshine." 

"  I  dunno  what  be  a-talkin'  of,  but  I  likes  to  hear  yo' 
— doan't  leave  me." 

The  old  man  turned  his  wrinkled  and  pitiful  face  up  to 
David,  who  still  held  the  old  man's  trembling  hand. 

"  I  will  come  back,"  said  David. 

"It's  a  long  time  waitin',"  the  old  man  remarked,  his 
mind  going  off  again  to  thoughts  of  Mira,  "  I'n  waited  and 
waited  ;  but  she'll  come,  I  mek  na  doubt,  if  I  can  only  live 
through  the  storm.  It's  a  hard  un  to  weather  ;  but  we  mun 
never  despair." 

"  That's  right,"  said  David.     "  Good-by  for  the  present." 

Zaccheus  lapsed  into  silence,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the 
fire,  his  hands  lying  idly  upon  his  knee,  his  worn  face  show- 
ing no  further  signs  of  intelligence  or  life. 

Mildred  knelt  down  by  his  side  and  thought  a  prayer  for 
him;  and  as  she  rose,  she  kissed  the  helpless  hands  and  said, 
"  Good-by,  poor,  dear  broken-hearted  father  !  Good-by  !  " 

"  That's  wust  on  it,"  said  Charity,  smoothing  her  apron, 
"  he  goes  off  into  them  fits  o'  unconsciousness,  or  whatsum- 
ever  they  may  be,  and  it'll  tek  me  hours  to  rouse  him." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  good  to  him,"  said  Mildred.  "  Let  me 
ask  you  to  accept  this  little  gift,  and  I  want  you  to  write  a 
letter  to  an  address  I  shall  send  you.  The  postage  will  be 
costly,  but  I  will  give  you  money." 

"  Yes,  miss.     Who  be  I  to  get  to  write  him  ? " 

"  I  forgot  that  you  cannot  write,  Charity.  I  shall  ask  one 
of  Mr.  Petherick's  clerks  to  wait  upon  you,  and  you  can  tell 
him  what  you  wish  to  say." 

"Thank  you  kindly,"  said  the  woman,  making  a 
courtesy. 

"  Good-by,  then,"  said  Mildred. 

David,  dividing  his  attention  between  the  silent  figure  by 


374  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

the  fire  and  Mildred's  leave-taking,  watched  the  prison 
visitor  with  a  newborn  admiration  of  her  gentle  ways  and 
her  soft,  sweet  voice. 

"A  blind  woman  might  see  which  way  the  cat's 
a-jumpin',''  said  Charity  to  herself,  as  she  watched  Mildred 
and  David  plodding  over  the  sand-hills  to  the  lookout 
station.  "  It's  a  wonderful  thing  how  ewents  do  come 
about.  She  was  always  fond  on  him,  that  religious  lass  wi' 
her  soft  ways  and  her  insinooatin'  voice,  and  as  I  says,  religion 
aint  no  bar  to  love,  not  a  bit,  though  men's  shy  on  it  ;  not 
as  religion  ever  seemed  to  hurt  Mildred  Hope  so  far  as 
bein'  happy  and  the  like,  and  even  passing  over  a  joke 
good-natured.  I  never  see  a  neater  ankle,  nor  a  nattier 
foot.  I've  heard  Mira  say  the  same,  and  I  think  it  made 
Mira  go  to  that  high  and  mighty  bootmaker  as  got  his 
wares,  they  says,  from  France,  not  as  Mildred  needed  such 
'elps  to  nattiness  ;  and  as  for  her  figure,  well  I've  often  said 
the  young  man  as  gets  Mildred  woan't  need  to  repine,  staid 
as  they  say  she  is,  for  she's  blessed  wi'  everything,  I  should 
say,  as  a  young  man  might  desire.  I  dessay  that  Master 
Keith  may  be  Master  Right  to  her,  but  he's  a  way  wi'  him  as 
I  never  liked  so  well  as  Squire  Barkstead  ;  but  then  he  had 
never  the  money  ;  the  way  as  squire  chucked  his  guineas 
about — well  it  was  enough  to  turn  a  lass's  head.  It  turned 
mine,  I  knaw,  and  I's  sorry  for  it ;  but  what's  the  good  o* 
sayin'  '  lead  us  not  into  temptation,'  when  a  fine-spoken 
young  feller  like  him  comes  about  wi'  his  guineas,  and  his 
dimings,  and  his  jewels,  and  his  nice  manners,  and  a-singing 
songs  like  a  male  angel,  as  I  says  to  Mira  many's  the  time? 
Well,  we  never  knows  what's  a-goin'  to  come  to  pass — but 
if  them  two  aint  made  up  their  minds  about  a  weddin'  ring 
and  all  the  rest,  Charity  Dene's  no  judge,  and  you  can  just 
count  her  out  as  no  good.  Hello  !  dear,  dear  !  why  you'll 
burn  your  boots.  Come  out  o'  that  ! 

The  old  man  slipped  toward  the  fire  until  his  boots  rested 


THE  PATIENCE  OF  ZACCHEUS   WEBB.  375 

on  the  bars.  His  face  was  curiously  drawn,  and  his  eyes 
were  full  of  tears. 

"  Come,  come,  master,  what's  the  matter  ?  Get  up,  man  ! 
get  up  ! " 

She  took  him  by  the  arm,  pushed  his  chair  from  the  fire, 
and  he  began  to  sob. 

"  That's  reight  now,  you'll  be  better.  I  was  afeard  it 
was  something  wuss,  that  a'  was  !  I  once  seed  my  father 
in  a  fit,  and  it  began  just  like  that.  But  there,  it's  only 
come  from  feeling  a  bit  upset  thinkin'  o'  things.  Come, 
master,  let  megie  yo'a  drop  o'  drink;  that'll  put  you  right." 

She  went  to  the  cupboard  and  brought  out  a  tumbler,  into 
which  she  poured  a  fair  modicum  of  brandy  and  pressed  it 
to  his  lips. 

"  That's  right,"  she  said,  as  the  old  man  opened  his  lips 
and  began  to  drink.  "  That's  reight,  we  all  'as  our  feelin's; 
and  yo'n  been  hard  put  to  it,  that's  a  fact." 

"  Thank  !  "  said  the  old  man,  "  thank  !  "  and  stretching 
his  stiffened  limbs  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the 
window. 

"  Want  to  see  'em  ?  They's  gone  to  the  lookout ;  be 
goin'  to  gie  'em  a  boat  and  call  it  after  yo' — Zaccheus 
Webb." 

"That's  so,"  he  said,  leaning  against  the  window  frame, 
his  wet  eyes  wandering  over  the  gray  sea. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 
ALL  ON  A  SUMMER'S  DAY. 

WHEN  the  summer  came  again  Zaccheus  Webb's  bed  was 
drawn  up  to  the  window  that  he  might,  propped  up  on  his 
pillows,  see  the  garden  and  look  out  to  sea. 

He  only  spoke  now  in  whispers.  Except  for  the  hair 
upon  them,  denoting  a  strength  that  had  gone,  his  hands 
were  white,  and  so  thin  that  you  could  count  the  bones  in 
them.  His  face  had  lost  most  of  its  curious  puckered 
wrinkles.  A  straggling  beard  partly  concealed  his  mouth 
and  chin.  His  eyes  were  sunken.  There  was  a  restfulness 
in  their  expression,  and  in  the  quiet  mouth,  that  betokened 
the  approach  of  a  painless  death.  He  was  like  a  ship  out- 
ward bound  that  waited  for  a  favoring  wind. 

Beneath  the  window  was  the  rustic  seat  where  Harry 
Barkstead  had  waited  for  David  and  Elmira  on  that  day 
when  David  had  told  the  girl  of  his  projected  trip  to  New- 
foundland, and  had  walked  home  afterward  too  trium- 
phantly for  Harry's  jealous  and  crooked  nature.  The 
dusky  beauty  with  her  golden  crown  and  her  weather- 
beaten  face  still  dominated  the  old  seat.  The  nasturtiums 
were  climbing  over  her  faded  gown.  The  box-edged  flower 
beds  had  been  somewhat  neglected,  but  they  put  forth 
radiant  tributes  to  the  sun  nevertheless — peonies,  clove- 
pinks,  rosemary,  pansies,  sweet  peas — and  the  lilac  and 
laburnum  were  shedding  their  flowers  upon  the  graveled 
walk  in  a  fading  splendor  of  perfume  and  color.  Over  the 
cottage  porch  a  thousand  rosebuds  were  bursting  into 
bloom,  and  down  even  to  the  margin  of  the  sea  the  dunes 
were  decorated  with  waving  grasses  and  humble  flowers 

376 


ALL  ON  A  SUMMER'S  DAY.  377 

that  trailed  along  the  sands  as  if  nature  were  designing  a 
carpet  for  fairy  footfalls. 

i  On  one  of  the  stillest  days  of  this  sweet  summertime,  a 
steam  yacht,  one  of  the  first  handsome  vessels  of  the  kind, 
built  for  pleasure  and  fitted  with  a  luxury  of  furniture  and 
convenience  hitherto  unknown  in  sea-going  craft,  appeared 
off  Caister  and  cast  anchor. 

Zaccheus  saw  it,  Charity  Dene  saw  it.  The  sun  seemed 
to  give  it  a  friendly  recognition,  flashing  on  its  brass  stran- 
chions  and  whitening  its  smoking  funnel. 

Presently  a  boat  was  lowered.  Two  sailors  dropped  into 
it.  A  woman  descended  by  a  short  rope  ladder.  She 
waved  her  hand  to  a  gentleman  in  a  yachting  jacket  as  she 
took  her  seat  in  the  stern,  and  the  two  sailors  pulled  for 
the  shore. 

The  old  man  watched  the  boat,  and  Charity  Dene 
watched  Zaccheus. 

"  Yo'  an  got  eyes  of  late  that  look  straight  into  future," 
said  the  woman  in  a  low  voice.  "  What  do  yo'  make  on  it  ? " 

"  Mira  !  "  said  the  old  man,  "  Mira  ! " 

"  Pray  God  it  be  !  "  said  Charity,  now  much  more  gentle 
in  her  manner  toward  the  old  man  than  when  we  saw  her 
last.  The  presence  of  death  had  softened  her,  and  she  was 
sorry  for  the  broken-hearted  old  fisherman. 

"  I  hev  prayed  "  said  Zaccheus,  lifting  his  head  with  dif- 
ficulty so  as  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  boat. 

"  You  be  the  most  patient  man  I  hev  ivver  knowed, 
Master  Webb,"  said  Charity,  raising  his  head  and  propping 
him  up  with  an  extra  pillow. 

"  I  knawed  she'd  come,"  he  replied,  and  there  could  be 
no  mistaking  the  lithe,  active  woman  who,  the  boat  being 
driven  right  upon  the  beach,  leaped  ashore  and  made 
straight  for  the  old  cottage. 

Charity  did  not  seem  to  have  the  power  to  leave  the 
room.  There  was  nobody  below  stairs.  They  heard  their 


378  UNDER  THE  GREAT 'SEAL. 

visitor  swing  open  the  garden  gate,  heard  her  enter  the 
cottage,  heard  her  call  out  in  an  impatient,  anxious  way, 
"Charity  !  where  are  you  ?  Father  !  " 

The  old  man  looked  at  Charity,  who  responded  with  an 
anxious  glance  toward  the  door.  All  was  quiet  again. 
The  visitor  had  evidently  gone  into  the  back  part  of  the 
cottage.  Then  the  door  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway  was 
unlatched  and  a  footstep  was  heard  approaching — a  quiet 
footstep,  as  if  the  visitor  had  suddenly  learned  that  there 
was  sickness  in  the  house. 

The  door  opened.  A  lovely  woman  with  a  pale,  tearful 
face  stood  in  the  doorway  for  a  moment,  and  then  with  a 
smothered  cry  flung  herself  upon  her  knees  by  the  bed. 

"  Mira  !  "  said  Zaccheus,  stretching  a  long  thin  arm 
toward  her,  "  Mira  !  " 

She  buried  her  face  in  the  bedside  and  with  one  hand  felt 
for  his  across  the  clothes.  Their  hands  found  each  other, 
Zaccheus  tried  to  draw  his  child  toward  him,  but  he  was 
very  feeble. 

"  Do  'e  get  up  ! "  said  Charity,  taking  Elmira  gently  by 
the  arm. 

"  Oh,  my  God ! "  said  the  woman,  choking  with  her 
tears,  "  I  have  killed  him  !  " 

"  Mira  !  "  said  the  old  man,  "  I  knawed  you'd  come. 
Mira,  kiss  me  !  " 

She  leaned  over  him  and  pressed  a  burning  kiss  upon  his 
mouth,  and  stroked  his  thin  hair,  and  sobbed  and  cried 
until  Charity  Dene  could  do  nothing  but  sit  down  and 
smother  her  own  tears  in  her  apron. 

But  there  were  no  tears  in  the  eyes  of  Zaccheus.  On  the 
contrary,  he  smiled  and  looked  happy. 

"  Oh  !  father,  father  !  I  have  nothing  to  say,  only  I  love 
you — yes,  dear,  I  do.  I  was  mad — vain  ;  I " 

"  My  dear  love  !  "  whispered  the  old  man  ;  "  Mira  !  I 
knawed  ye'd  never  let  me  go  and  not  say  good-by." 


ALL  ON  A  SUMMER'S  DAY.  379 

"  Father,  I  have  one  thing  to  say,"  she  went  on  between 
her  sobs.  "I  am  a  married  woman  now  and  have  a  son, 
and  he  will  some  day  be  an  earl,  and " 

Zaccheus  did  not  care  whether  she  was  married  or  not. 
He  heard  none  of  the  cheap  explanation  with  which  the 
poor  vain  foolish  woman  hoped  to  soothe  his  last  hours. 
He  was  not  at  any  time  sufficiently  trained  in  the  ways  of 
the  world  to  appreciate  the  honor  which  one  aristocrat  had 
conferred  on  the  mistress  of  another,  nor  to  understand  the 
distinction  of  being  the  grandfather  of  a  dishonored  son. 
He  only  knew  that  his  child  had  come  back  to  him.  He 
only  remembered  her  as  the  bright  angel  of  his  widower- 
hood  ;  his  pretty,  loving  girl  who  sang  "  Cupid's  Garden," 
and  could  handle  an  oar  with  the  best  beachman  of  Yar- 
mouth. He  did  not  see  the  jewel  on  her  finger,  nor  note 
the  texture  of  her  yachting  gown.  He  felt  her  hand  in  his  ; 
heard  her  voice ;  she  had  kissed  him ;  he  remembered 
nothing  of  her  but  what  was  sweet ;  and  all  he  had  to  say 
was,  "  Mira,  love,  I  knowed  you'd  come." 

The  sun  shone  brightly  on  sea  and  garden  as  he  slept. 
It  burned  in  at  the  window,  so  lavish  of  its  beams 
that  Charity  drew  the  blind.  They  both  sat  long  by  the 
bed  and  watched,  and  Elmira  remembered  snatches  of 
prayers  that  Mildred  Hope  had  taught  her,  but  he  did  not 
wake  again.  The  patient  soul  of  the  Caister  smacksman 
had  put  to  sea.  It  was  enough  for  Zaccheus  that  her  hand 
was  in  his  when  he  was  signaled  to  lift  anchor  for  his  latest 
voyage. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE   BURIED    TREASURE. 

THAT  same  sweet  summer's  day  that  saw  Zaccheus  Webb 
weigh  anchor  for  his  last  voyage  saw  Alan  Keith  and 
David  his  son  sail  into  the  still  waters  of  Wilderness  Creek. 

It  was  on  just  such  a  day  that  Alan,  some  thirty  years 
previously,  had  first  discovered  the  secret  harbor. 

Here  it  was  once  more  with  its  reflections  of  Demon's 
Rock,  its  sandy  shores,  its  distant  range  of  sheltering  hills, 
and  its  weird  and  happy  memories. 

When  David  dropped  the  anchor  of  the  smack  Nautilus, 
which  his  father  had  bought  at  St.  John's,  the  old  man, 
after  contemplating  the  scene  for  some  minutes,  could  only 
remark,  "  It's  very  hot,  David,  for  Labrador."  It  was  not 
a  romantic  observation.  But  as  the  leading  incidents  of 
Alan's  life  passed  before  him  almost  like  a  flash,  with  this 
remarkable  denouement — this  return  to  Nasquappe  and  the 
harbor,  and  the  rendezvous  of  his  band  of  patriots  and  free- 
booters— his  mind  seemed  to  find  relief  in  the  most  prosaic 
observations. 

"  Is  it  ? "  was  David's  none  the  less  commonplace  reply. 

"Maist  as  hot  as  Spain,"  said  Alan,  "and  the  silence  o' 
the  place  reminds  me  o'  Venice  when  I  made  excursions 
on  the  lagoons  i'  the  neight  time." 

"  It  is  very  quiet,"  said  David,  "and  very  beautiful." 

"  I  propose  we  just  tak'  a  drink,  David,"  said  the  old 
man.  "  As  for  mysel',  I'll  temporize  the  waiter  wi'  a  bit 
o'  whusky." 

As  he  spoke  Alan  drew  half  a  tumbler  of  water  from  the 
keg  which  he  had  sheltered  from  the  sun  at  the  stern  of  the 

380 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE.  381 

boat,  and  poured  into  it  a  modicum  of  whisky  from  a  stone 
jar,  which  was  part  of  certain  necessaries  of  food  and  drink 
in  a  hamper  stored  close  by. 

"  Here's  to  ye  !  "  said  Alan,  wiping  his  lips  and  passing 
the  jar  to  David. 

"  Water  for  me,  father,"  said  David.  "  I'll  try  your  dew 
of  the  mountain  later,  when  we  smoke." 

"  As  ye  will,"  said  Alan,  restoring  the  jar  to  the  hamper 
and  the  horn  tumbler  with  it,  "  ye  didna  thenk  there  was 
aught  as  fine  as  this  i'  these  latitudes,  eh  ?" 

"  As  fine,"  said  David,  "but  not  as  beautiful.  Why,  it 
might  be  one  of  the  holiday  lakes  one  hears  about  in  your 
native  Scotland." 

"  Eh,  man,  ye're  reight  there,  it's  the  sairt  o'  country  that 
gets  into  your  brain;  and  I  tell  ye,  my  son,  the  story  o'  this 
harbor  is  to  me  something  like  a  fable  o'long  and  long  ago; 
and  yet,  at  the  minute  when  we  run  in  here  as  if  we'd  oiled 
our  keel,  it  was  like  yesterday,  wi'  all  its  strange  and  true 
happenings  thick  in  my  memory." 

"  Don't  you  think  we  might  moor  the  smack  to  yonder 
piles  ?  "  said  David. 

"  The  thing  I  was  gaen  to  sae  mysel',  David,  if  they'll 
houd.  I  remember  John  Preedie  and  Donald  Nicol  driving 
them,  nigh  on  thirty  years  back,"  said  Alan. 

"  They  look  strong  enough  for  a  ship,  let  alone  a  smack," 
said  David,  hauling  up  the  anchor  which  he  had  previously 
dropped.  "  Will  you  take  an  oar,  father  ? " 

Alan  thrust  a  long  oar  HI  to  its  rowlock,  David  taking  up 
another  and  trying  to  use  it  as  a  pole  to  shove  the  boat  and 
steer  her  at  the  same  time. 

Alan  laughed  ;  a  rare  habit  with  him.  David  hardly 
remembered  when  he  had  heard  him  laugh,  though  his  smile 
was  pleasant  to  see,  and  frequent. 

"  Ye  might  as  weel  try  to  sound  the  Atlantic  wi'  a  mar- 
line spike,  man  ;  it's  a'  but  fathomless  i'  the  middle  ;  gradual 


3§2  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

as  the  shores  shelve  doonward,  they  come  to  the  same  kind  o' 
precipice  as  the  table  land  above  the  Rock  yonder,  and  then 
it's  watter  below  just  as  it's  sky  above  ;  pull  noo,  starboard  ; 
that's  it,  laddie,  noo  sling  your  rope  ;  that's  got  her  ! " 

"  Hold  !  "  said  David,  straining  on  the  rope.  "  Why  the 
timber  is  as  solid  as  the  rock." 

The  smack  lay  as  still  as  she  had  lain  before,  her  keel 
breaking  into  the  reflections  of  the  noble  face  of  Demon's 
Rock. 

"  Ye  see  the  cairns  yonder  amang  the  foothills  o'  the 
rock  ?  "  Alan  asked,  pointing  across  the  sandy  shore  to  the 
mountain. 

"  Yes,"  David  replied,  pulling  on  his  rough  jacket. 

"  The  sand,  and  the  wind,  and  the  bit  growth  o'  sea- 
thistles  and  the  like  hae  been  vera  usefu' — wha'd  think  o' 
questioning  the  sinceerity  o'  tombstones  on  which  Time  has 
written  such  epitaphs  !  " 

"  They  look  grim  and  serious,"  said  David. 

"  Laddie,  they  are  grim  and  serious,  maist  o'  them — all 
except  the  three  i'  the  middle — I  ca'them  the  Three  Graces 
— and  the  one  to  the  north  o'  the  row." 

"  How  do  you  know  one  from  the  other — the  real  graves 
and  the  treasure  casks  ?  " 

"  How  did  I  ken  the  channel  that  brought  us  to  the 
spot  ?  "  was  Alan's  reply. 

David  had  asked  his  question  in  a  non-committal  inquir- 
ing spirit,  more  by  way  of  saying  something  than  with  a  view 
to  question  his  father.  He  had  it  in  his  mind  to  prepare 
himself  and  his  father  for  the  breaking  up  of  a  wild  delu- 
sion, the  bursting  of  a  bubble,  the  awakening  from  a  dream  ; 
for  he  had  never  altogether,  even  in  his  most  sanguine 
moments,  accepted  his  father's  account  of  the  buried  treasure 
as  anything  more  than  an  unconscious  exaggeration  of  some 
more  or  less  trivial  secreting  of  hard-won  savings,  if  not  the 
baseless  fancy  of  a  mind  distraught. 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE.  383 

"  David,  I  hae  dreamed  myseP  shoutin'  and  dancin',  if 
ever  I  lived  to  resurrect  the  Three  Graces.  I  hae  thought 
o'  myseP  as  goin'  just  wild  when  the  time  should  come  that 
I  stood  here  again;  and  it's  only  o'  late,  as  ye  ken, that 
I  began  to  think  o'  you  by  my  side,  my  son,  Hannah's 
child.  What  wad  ha'  been  the  use  o'  the  goud  and  things 
wi'out  ye,  David  ?  And  yet  I  used  to  dream  about  bein' 
here  and  gloatin'  ower  it ;  but  that  maun  'a'  been  prophetic 
in  a  way,  for  it  was  surely  ordained  that  I  should  find  ye  at 
last,  as  I  did.  Eh,  man,  what  a  meetin*  it  was  !  David, 
we'll  be  grateful  to  God  for  it ;  we'll  consider  ourselves 
his  stewards." 

David  felt  his  doubts  increase  as  his  father  went  ram- 
bling on,  never  attempting  to  advance  toward  the  pathetic 
looking  cemetery,  with  its  stones  packed  up  originally  into 
the  shape  of  crosses,  now  crooked,  fallen  into  odd  forms, 
with  gray  bits  of  weed  and  lichen  on  them,  and  drifts 
of  sand  held  together  by  stringy  grasses. 

"  I  couldna  ha'  believed  that  I  should  stand  here  sae 
calm  and  businesslike,  as  if  the  cairns  o'  Wilderness  Creek 
and  the  mighty  rock  above  them,  to  say  naething  about  the 
cavern  beyond,  were  the  maist  commonplace  things  i' 
nature.  D'ye  see  the  cavern,  David  ?  Ye'll  imagine  it's 
the  entrance  to  a  cathedral,  man,  when  ye  hae  passed  the 
foothills  and  the  cairns,  sae  grand  is  it ;  and  it's  away  up 
above  that  I  hae  stored  the  other  bit  money  and  scrip  I 
telt  ye  of,  and  the  wee  bit  huts  and  the  rest." 

David's  imagination  was  touched  with  the  lonely  beauty 
of  the  scene,  the  strangeness  of  their  visit,  the  rock  toward 
which  his  father  waved  his  long  bony  hand,  a  vast  solid 
mighty  stone,  as  it  seemed,  with  ridges  cut  into  it  and  sharp 
ledges,  and  with  a  tall  smooth  crown  contrasting  in  a  strik- 
ing way  with  the  jagged  peaks  and  points  of  the  army  of 
sentinels  that  took  their  orders,  as  it  were,  from  the  chief, 
and  went  ranging  along  the  coast  for  miles  and  miles,  look- 


384  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

ing  out  to  sea  and  at  the  same  time  peering  up  into  the 
heavens. 

"  Shove  off  the  gangway,  David,  my  son,"  said  Alan 
presently.  "  We  might  as  well  gae  ashore  to  our  work  i' 
comfort  and  i'  order." 

David  made  a  gangway  of  one  of  several  planks  that  lay 
amidships  with  some  shovels,  a  pickax,  and  other  tools, 
carefully  stored  out  of  sight  under  a  heavy  tarpaulin. 

"  Noo,  lad,  the  tools  !  " 

While  David  slung  a  couple  of  shovels  over  his  shoulder, 
his  father  drew  forth  a  pickax  and  a  blacksmith's  hammer, 
very  much  like  the  formidable  weapon  that  Damian,  the 
dwarf,  had  wielded  with  much  deadly  effect  upon  the  Anne 
of  Dartmouth,  as  the  reader  will  remember. 

David  was  the  first  to  step  ashore.  His  were  the  only 
footprints  to  be  seen,  of  either  man,  bird,  or  animal. 
Millions  of  insects  seemed  to  start  up  and  carry  the  news, 
from  tiny  hillock  to  tiny  valley,  of  the  new  and  strange 
arrival. 

Shouldering  his  pickax  and  carrying  the  great  hammer 
in  his  hand,  Alan  Keith  followed  his  son.  Their  tall 
shadows  climbed  ahead  as  if  to  pioneer  them  to  the  little 
cemetery. 

"  Noo,  lad,  we'll  need  the  trunk,"  said  Alan,  dropping  his 
hammer  and  his  ax. 

David  returned  for  a  leather  packing-case  that  had 
handles  fore  and  aft. 

Father  and  son  carried  it  between  them. 

A  flight  of  birds  rushed,  screaming,  from  the  cavern 
beneath  Demon's  Rock  as  they  approached  it.  Alan 
started,  David  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise.  The 
birds  disappeared  among  the  foothills. 

"  When  it's  dark  and  stormy,"  said  Alan,  proceeding  on 
his  way,  "  that's  the  sort  o'  sma'  animal  the  sailors  mistake 
for  demons  and  fiends  and  the  like." 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE.  385 

"I  don't  wonder  at  the  superstition,"  said  David;  "the 
sea  must  set  in  upon  this  coast  with  awful  force  in  winter." 

"  It's  just  wonderfu'  to  me  that  we  can  stand  talkin1  here 
wi'  Fortune,  wi'  both  her  hands  full,  waitin'  our  pleasure," 
said  Alan,  contemplating  the  cairns. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  David  replied,  half  reluctant  to  begin,  with 
the  idea  of  some  great  disillusion  awaiting  his  father. 

"  Noo,  lad,  lay  to,"  said  Alan,  beginning  to  shovel  the 
sand  away  from  the  base  of  the  pile  of  stones  that  covered 
the  center  grave,  "  tak  the  bowlders  off  the  top." 

David  inserted  the  pick  into  the  interstices  of  the  stones, 
and  then  with  a  shovel  began  to  clear  away  the  sand  and 
weed  beneath. 

His  heart  was  beating  with  a  hopeful  anticipation  that 
all  his  father  had  led  him  to  count  upon  might  come  true. 
As  he  worked  at  the  unsealing  of  the  alleged  horde  of  gold 
and  silver,  of  lace  and  spice  and  amber  and  precious  stones, 
he  thought  of  the  great  things  Mildred  might  accomplish 
by  way  of  fulfilling  her  ambition  of  charity  and  love  ;  what 
he  might  see  of  the  great  world,  sailing  round  it  for  pleas- 
ure ;  what  Petherick  would  say  when  he  called  on  him  at 
Yarmouth  ;  what  he  might  be  permitted  to  do  to  smooth 
the  last  days  of  Zaccheus  Webb,  little  thinking  that  the  old 
smackman  had  already,  on  that  very  day,  solved  the  great 
mystery  of  all. 

"  Man  !  "  exclaimed  Alan,  suddenly  breaking  in  upon 
David's  work  and  reflections,  "  what  if  we  have  been  fore- 
stalled." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  father  ? "  asked  David,  coming  out 
of  his  first  real  unrestricted  sensation  of  faith  in  the 
paternal  promise  of  wealth. 

"  What  if  that  man  Bentz  or  some  ither  trait'rous  vil- 
lain has  been  here  before  us  and  robbed  ye  of  your 
inheritance  ?  " 

"  I  thought  no  one  else  knew  of  your  store  ? "  said  David, 


386  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

with  a  sickening  doubt  of  the  whole  business.  "  You  said 
they  were  all  lost  at  sea  when  you  were  oveborne  by  the 
might  and  numbers  of  your  enemies." 

"  All  but  one,"  said  the  old  man,  "  all  but  the  greatest 
villain  i'  the  wide  world  !  " 

"  Who  was  he  ?"  David  asked.     "  What  was  he  ?  " 

"Just  the  maist  damned  traitor  and  vile  thief  your 
imagination  can  conceive.  But  we  are  wastin'  time,  laddie  ; 
it's  natural  to  have  a  stray  doubt  come  into  one's  mind 
after  sae  many  years  and  when  ye  hae  got  your  hand  on 
the  handle  o'  the  door,  so  to  speak." 

"  I  should  say  these  stones  have  not  been  removed  since 
they  were  first  stacked  here,"  said  David.  "  If  there  was 
ever  anything  of  value  buried  beneath  them,  depend  on  it, 
we  shall  find  it." 

"  '  If  ! '  D'ye  say  '  if,'  David  ?  Weel,  weel,  I  dinna  won- 
der ye  should  doubt,  if  I  can  doubt,  mysel' — stand  by,  and 
gie  me  the  pick  !  " 

David  stood  aside,  wiping  his  hot  face  and  preparing 
himself  generally  for  the  disappointment  he  had  all  along 
feared.  His  father  went  to  work  with  a  vigor  that  was 
remarkable  for  his  years.  He  bent  his  back  over  the  exca- 
vation and  flung  out  the  sand  in  a  continuous  shower,  sand 
and  pebbles,  sand  and  bits  of  straw  and  sprigs  of  trees 
that  had  been  packed  with  the  sand  to  bind  it. 

"  Laddie,  I  believe  ye're  reight ;  nae  sacrilegious  hands 
hae  been  pottering  about  the  cemetery  o'  Wilderness  Creek 
since  the  St.  Dennis  sailed  out  o'  the  harbor  never  to 
return,"  said  Alan,  pausing  in  his  work  to  catch  his  breath, 
and  cheer  up  his  despondent  son  and  comrade. 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,  father,"  David  answered. 

"  Gie  me  the  pick,  lad,"  said  Alan,  laying  down  his 
shovel  and  turning  up  his  sleeves. 

Alan  took  the  implement  and,  swinging  it  above  his  head, 
brought  it  down  upon  the  spot  which  he  and  David  had 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE.  387 

partially  cleared.  The  pick  fell  with  a  dull  thud  upon 
something  that  was  neither  sand  nor  rock. 

"  Stand  by  !  "  he  said,  his  eyes  brightening.  "  Stand  by, 
David,  it's  a'  reight,  I'm  thinking." 

David  took  a  step  nearer  to  the  old  man,  who  once  more 
brought  his  pick  down  upon  the  place  he  had  struck  before. 

"  It's  there !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  drew  the  pick  forth 
with  a  tug.  "  It's  there  !  the  shovel,  laddie,  the  shovel !  " 

"  Let  me  help  you  now,"  said  David,  handing  his  father 
the  shovel. 

Alan  took  no  heed  of  the  remark,  but  set  to  work  again 
with  unsubdued  energy,  only  to  pause  when  he  was  assured 
that  at  least  the  cask  he  had  dug  for  was  beneath  his  feet. 

"  It's  the  fresh  air  and  the  happiness  ye  hae  brought  me 
that's  made  me  young  again,"  he  said,  as  if  answering  the 
point  of  David's  admiration  of  his  father's  strength.  "My 
lad,  I  amna  so  owd  that  my  sinews  are  unstrung,  my  mus- 
cles dried  up.  Why,  just  noo  I  feel  as  if  I  were  ainly 
beginning  life,  and  I  tell  ye,  I  dinna  mean  to  dee  for  many 
and  many  a  year  to  come." 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  said  David  once  more,  wondering  at 
the  same  time  how  even  his  strange  and  eccentric  father 
could  pause  to  boast  in  the  midst  of  the  exceptional  work 
in  which  he  was  engaged,  and  with  a  vast  prize  or  a  terrible 
blank  within  reach  of  his  hand. 

"  Shovel  the  stuff  away  frae  the  sides  o'  the  hole,"  Alan 
said,  as  he  took  up  the  pick  once  more,  "  and  gie  me  elbow 
room." 

David  made  the  mouth  of  the  excavation  free  from  sand 
and  stones,  and  Alan  drove  the  pick  once  more  into  the 
obstruction  that  had  gripped  it.  The  result  was  a  portion 
of  the  end  of  a  cask.  Another  attack  brought  up  a  second 
piece,  rotten  and  soft.  Alan  laid  the  two  pieces  of  wood 
within  arm's  length  of  the  hole,  and  then,  lying  prone  on 
his  side,  thrust  his  right  hand  into  it. 


388  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

"  The  Frenchman's  silver  flagon,  sure  as  fate  !  "  h« 
exclaimed,  placing  upon  the  bank  a  beautifully  shaped  jug, 
its  golden  arabesque  shining  out  through  the  tarnish  ol 
the  silver. 

David  could  not  speak.  He  stood,  with  parted  lips,  watch- 
ing the  unearthing  of  the  treasure. 

"  Man,  I  ken  them  a'.  I  remember  Preedie  cramming  the 
last  lot  o'  the  bright  and  jeweled  trinkets  and  what  not 
into  the  top  of  the  cask.  I've  gotten  houd  o'  the  daggei 
the  Frenchman  said  he'd  looted  wi'  a  heap  of  precious 
things  frae  a  palace  i'  the  East  ;  nay,  I  dinna  ken  where, 
Here  it  is,  and  by  the  might  o'  bonnie  Scotland,  there's  the 
same  grand  light  blazing  on  the  hilt  that  I  remember  as 
weel  as  if  it  were  yesterday." 

David  stooped  to  take  the  dagger,  and  before  he  had 
looked  at  it,  out  came  a  metal  box,  with  the  remark  of  the 
excavator,  "  Solid  silver  !  "  followed  by  a  chafing-dish,  and 
the  remark,  "  Solid  silver  wi'  goud  ornaments  "  ;  then  a 
wooden  box,  with  seals  upon  it,  with  the  remark  "Amber  "; 
to  be  succeeded  by  other  packages  and  curios,  handed  out 
with  the  same  lively  running  remarks,  "  A  jeweled  snuff- 
box, atta'  o'  roses,  a  little  idol  made  o'  a  great  pearl  wi' 
diamonds  for  eyes  and  a  sapphire  headpiece.  Man  !  I 
remember  them  as  if  it  was  yesterday  ;  the  Frenchman 
bragged  o'  them  as  he  got  fuddled  wi'  his  red  wine,  which 
me  and  my  crew  could  just  drink  like  watter  and  never 
wink  !  " 

David  shook  himself  to  be  sure  that  he  was  David  ;  that 
he  was  not  in  bed  at  Yarmouth  ;  and  then  he  felt  inclined 
to  shout,  "  Father,  forgive  me  !  I  thought  you  were  mad  !  " 

"  What  d'ye  think  about  it,  now  ?  "  Alan  asked,  look- 
ing up,  his  eyes  ablaze,  his  face  streaming  with  perspira- 
tion, his  mouth  wreathed  with  smiles. 

"  I  cannot  think,"  said  David.  "  I  want  to  dance  as  you 
thought  you  would." 


THE  BURIED   TREASURE.  389 

"  Then  dance,  lad  !  by  the  Lord,  I'll  set  ye  the  tune,"  he 
said.  "  Here  it  is  !  "  And  he  handed  David  a  small  bag. 
"  Press  it  to  your  heart,  David,  and  dance  like  your  great 
namesake,  wha  danced  before  the  Laird  ;  for  ye  hae  got  a 
treasure  now  that  Mildred  can  build  her  hospital  wi',  and 
set  up  a'  her  needy  poor  i'  business  from  Caister  to  Gorles- 
ton,  and  ye  can  build  the  church  we  promised  Father  Lavello, 
in  the  midst  o'  Heart's  Content;  and  puir  owd  Alan  Keith  can 
raise  a  monument  i'  the  forest  to  God's  angel  upon  earth." 

As  he  said  these  things  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  David 
seized  him  by  the  hand. 

"  Father  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  never  thought  it  was  quite 
true — not  that  I  doubted  your  word,  but  it  passed  beyond 
all  my  hopes,  and  now  I  don't  know  how  to  contain  myself." 

"  I'll  sit  me  doon,"  said  Alan,  "  not  here,  I'll  gae  aboord, 
I'm  feelin'  a  trifle  tired,  and  a  wee  bit  thoughtfu'.  Eh,  man, 
I  only  wish  the  comrades  who  stood  here  i'  the  past,  and 
who  helped  store  these  things  were  here  to  tak  their  share 
and  divide  wi'  me.  Nay,  nay  ;  on  second  thoughts  I  dinna 
wish  anything  o'  the  kind,  except  perhaps  in  the  case  o' 
Preedie  and  Donald  Nicol— the  others  wad  just  ha'  mis- 
applied it.  David,  I  dinna  ken  quite  what  I'm  sayin'.  I'll 
gae  aboord  and  hae  anither  wee  drop  to  steady  mysel'." 

"  But  this  bag,  father  ? "  said  David,  still  holding  the 
small  leather  bag  that  his  father  had  placed  in  his  hands 
with  so  many  exclamations  as  to  its  value.  It  was  a  soft 
thick  leather  bag,  drawn  together  with  thongs  of  leather. 
It  had  once  been  sealed,  but  the  wax  was  broken,  and  the 
thongs  had  been  clumsily  relied. 

"  Preedie  understood  a'  aboot  preecious  stones  and  the 
like.  I  couldna  tell  them  frae  glass  for  my  pairt,  but  Preedie 
just  loved  to  sit  doon  and  finger  these  i'  the  bag— finger 
them  and  gloat  ower  them— and  he  said  they  were  worth  a 
king's  ransom ;  pearls,  diamonds, sapphires,  and  rubies;  oneof 
the  biggest  diamonds  was  to  be  recut,  he  said;  and  he  talked 


39°  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SF.AL. 

o*  Amsterdam,  and  dealers  in  stones,  and  cutters  and  the  like, 
that  wise  I  often  wondered  if  he'd  been  i'  the  trade.  Open 
the  bag,  David  !  " 

David  untied  the  thongs,  and  emptied  a  few  of  the  stones 
into  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  Not  changed  one  bit,"  said  Alan;  "  the  same  wonderfu' 
sky  blue,  the  same  blude  red,  the  same  glassy  white  wi'  ten 
thousand  sparks  in  'em — weel,  David,  what  d'ye  mak  on 
'em  ? " 

"  I  should  say  they  are  all  Mr.  Preedie  thought  them. 
They  are  wonderful  !  " 

"  A  king's  ransom,  he  said  they  were  worth.  But  gin 
there  be  ony  mistake,  why  there's  a  barrel  o'  English 
guineas  and  braw  new  shillin's,  and  Spanish  coins  that'll 
mak  amends  !  " 

Alan  went  on  board  the  smack.  David  watched  him 
until  he  disappeared  below.  It  was  a  small  cabin  ;  bul 
there  were  two  bunks  in  it,  and  the  old  man  had  evidently 
decided  to  lie  down.  David  now  began  to  think  that 
Wilderness  Creek  might  not  be  quite  the  secret  place  his 
father  imagined.  He  suddenly  felt  the  responsibility  ol 
wealth,  and  looked  about  him  to  be  sure  that  he  was  nol 
under  the  surveillance  of  some  desperado.  He  thought  oi 
the  description  of  the  coast  the  captain  of  the  Morning  Slat 
had  given  him,  and  felt  if  his  pistol  was  safe  in  his  belt 
Then  he  laid  his  jacket  over  the  treasures  that  were  lyin£ 
on  the  ground,  and  putting  the  bag  of  precious  stones 
beneath  it,  shoveled  more  of  the  sand  from  the  mouth  of  thf 
buried  cask  and  cautiously  dropped  into  it,  stooping  dowr 
and  proceeding  with  the  work  of  emptying  it.  He  haulec 
out  all  kind  of  packages,  cups,  ornaments,  chalices,  packet; 
of  lace,  flasks  bound  in  woven  reeds  and  sealed  with  seals 
and  at  last  concluded  that  it  would  be  wise  to  fill  the  leathei 
trunk  his  father  had  brought  to  carry  the  treasures  or 
board. 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE.  391 

After  awhile,  looking  toward  the  smack,  he  saw  his  father 
sitting  calmly  amidships  smoking  his  chibouk.  He  waved 
his  hand  to  the  old  man,  who  responded  by  raising  his  pipe 
and  saluting  with  it,  as  if  it  were  a  sword.  Then  David 
began  to  pack  the  trunk.  He  laid  the  dagger,  and  all  the 
boxes  that  were  flat,  in  the  bottom  :  the  quaint  packages  of 
laces,  the  well  wrapped  amber,  the  cups  and  chalices,  the 
curious  ornaments,  a  pair  of  jeweled  belts,  heavy  with  gold 
and  thick  with  rose  diamonds,  that  did  not  sparkle  much 
but  had  a  very  grand  and  regal  appearance.  In  a  corner, 
between  soft  packages  and  reed-wrapped  flasks  of  perfumes 
and  strange  spices,  he  placed  the  bag  of  stones.  To  keep 
the  whole  fairly  firm  he  filled  the  remainder  of  the  trunk 
with  sand  and  dry  weeds  and  dtbris  of  Old  Time,  of  storm, 
and  stress,  and  heat,  and  cold,  and  proceeded  to  drag  the 
treasure  to  the  smack. 

"  When  ye  hae  got  your  treasure,"  said  Alan,  at  night,  as 
they  sat  in  the  little  cabin  after  supper,  "  then  comes  the 
anxiety  o'  guardin'  it.  Considerin'  that  there  is  some 
kind  o'  law  aboot  treasure  trove,  we  hae  got  to  be  careful 
and  discreet.  It  is  true  Preedie  bought  most  o'  the  land 
hereaboots  ;  it  is  true  he  has  endowed  ye  wi'  the  same.  I 
amna  quite  sure  that  his  precautions  bar  what  are  ca'd  the 
reights  o'  the  crown  ;  not  that  I  have  asked,  our  friend 
Lawyer  Margrave  or  anyone  the  question  ;  but  ye  will  see 
the  wisdom,  I  am  sure,  o'  the  wee  bit  furnace,  in  which  we 
can  melt  down  such  coins  and  such  silver  as  we  may  deem 
best  to  keep  in  ingots,  so  to  speak." 

"I  don't  question  your  judgment  in  anything,"  said 
David,  "  and  I  think  you  as  wonderful  as  you  are  good. 
To  have  maintained  your  sanity  and  your  purpose,  through 
such  sufferings  and  sorrows  as  have  fallen  to  your  lot,  is 
miraculous  !  " 

"  Aye,  'tis  in  a  way,  David  ;  but  I  began  wi'  an  enor 
mous  constitution.  My  father  and  grandfather,  and  every 


392  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

Keith  I  ever  heard  on,  were  mighty  folk,  soldiers  and  sailors, 
fightin'  men  wi'  tough  sinews  and  big  bones." 

"  And  big  hearts  !  "  said  David. 

"  Ye  may  say  that !  "  Alan  replied.  "  And  yet  I  left  my 
ain  father  promising  to  go  hame,  and  I  didna  gae  hame, 
and  he  deed  and  was  buried  wi'oot  a  hand  o'  mine  to  help 
lay  him  to  rest ;  but  he'd  ha'  forgiven  me,  if  he  had  seen 
your  mother,  David.  But  there,  we  maunna  waste  time  talk- 
ing o'  the  past  sae  far  away.  We'll  sail  out  the  morn  wi' 
our  cargo,  and  tak  it  to  St.  John's.  There's  a  cellar  i'  the 
house  that'll  keep  the  chest,  safe  enough  ;  and  -we  can 
negotiate  some  o'  the  stones  and  things  through  your 
trustee,  Mr.  Margrave,  who  seems  to  be  baith  shrewd  and 
reliable.  I  induced  him  to  remain  at  St.  John's  sae  lang  as 
I  might  want  him  ;  and  I  made  him  tak  a  fee  that  was 
not  out  o'  proportion  wi'  any  reasonable  service  I  might 
require." 

"  It's  a  pity  we  could  not  trust  anyone  to  help  us,"  said 
David,  "  I'm  fearful  of  leaving  the  place." 

"  Ye  needna  be,"  Alan  replied.  "  Depend  upon  it,  i'  a' 
these  years  Wilderness  Creek  is  just  the  lonely,  unvisited 
spot  I  found  it  when  I  was  an  adventurous  young  fellow, 
and  i'  love  wi'  your  dear  mother,  who  wad  often  say  she 
feared  I  didrft  quite  ken  hoo  dreadfu'  the  coast  was  here- 
aboot." 

"  You  think  it  is  best  to  sail  home  with  this  first  portion 
of  our  cargo  ? " 

"  That's  my  opinion,"  said  Alan.  "  Dinna  put  a'  your 
eggs  i'  one  basket  is  a  gude  proverb,  though  I  had  to  dis- 
regard it  when  I  was  clearin*  to  defend  the  rebel  flag  as 
they  ca'd  it;  though  it's  a  grand  flag  enough  noo  in  general 
estimation.  Besides,  laddie,  we  named  a  day  to  return, 
and  dinna  ye  think  Mildred  will  be  anxious  aboot  ye?  " 

"  Of  course,  of  course  !  "  said  David,  whose  thoughts 
were  not  altogether  apart  from  Mildred  while  they  were 


THE  BURIED  TREASURE.  393 

bent  upon  the  treasures  that  were  to  be  so  great  a  boon  to 
her  as  well  as  to  himself. 

"  My  idea  is  just  to  tak  this  first  cargo  clean  hame,  the 
contents  o*  the  one  cask,  and  to  mak  two  other  trips — per- 
haps three.  I  hae  thought  it  a'  oot,  David  ;  mair  than  ye 
hae,  laddie,  for  the  reason  that  ye  haena  quite  realized 
what  we  hae  been  aboot  until  ye  stood  face  to  face  wi'  the 
reality  o'  the  romance  I  hae  been  telling  ye  aboot  a*  this 
time.  Dinna  fash  yoursel',  lad,  we'll  land  the  treasure,  and 
convert  it,  nivver  fear  !  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  David. 

"  I  am  sure  so  !  "  was  Alan's  quick  reply.  "  To-morrow 
before  we  set  sail,  we'll  land  our  furnace  and  set  it  up.  It's 
sma',  but  it'll  do  a'  we  require;  and  ye  shall  blow  the  bellows, 
David,  to  the  finest  music  ye  hae  heard  for  many  a  year, 
lad;  and,  wi'  all  due  reverence,  we'll  just  worship  at  the  altar 
that  all  the  world  worships  at.  But  we'll  melt  our  golden 
images  to  build  hospitals  wi'  and  mak  folks  happy — oursel's 
amang  the  rest,  David — we  arena  gaeing  to  forget  our- 
sel's." 

Night  came  down  dark  and  silent,  with  here  and  there 
a  star  ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  anxieties,  David  slept  so 
soundly  that  the  sun  had  risen,  and  his  father  was  up  and 
preparing  breakfast,  before  he  awoke. 

"  Another  glorious  day,"  said  Alan,  as  David  rubbed  his 
eyes  and  sat  up  in  his  bunk,  "  and  yesterday  is  true;  we  are 
unearthing  the  treasure,  ye  hae  come  into  your  fortune. 
Noo,  lad,  up  ye  get,  and  tak  a  swim  i'  the  waiters  o'  Wilder- 
ness Creek,  where  ye  are  monarch  of  all  ye  survey — and 
mair — and  much  mair,  David,  my  son — and  God  bless  ye, 
lad  !  " 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

DAVID'S  WIFE. 

AFTER  frowning  upon  him,  and  pursuing  him  with  mis- 
adventure even  unto  the  very  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  Fortune  smiled  upon  David  Keith,  and  endowed 
him  with  happiness  without  a  drawback,  beyond  the  com- 
mon discounts  -that  belong  to  the  natural  state  of  man. 
She  had  not  altogether  shielded  him  from  the  penalties  of 
his  hereditary  passion  of  vengeance  ;  but  she  had  brought 
him  through  the  perils  thereof  with  a  far  less  and  much 
briefer  punishment  than  that  which  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of 
his  father. 

Moreover,  David's  good  fortune  in  this  respect  was 
further  secured,  and  guarantees  given  to  Fate  by  his 
marriage  with  a  woman  who  had  the  power  and  the  oppor- 
tunity to  influence  him  in  the  direction  of  the  most  perfect 
charity. 

Mildred  Hope  also  had  her  reward  of  a  silent  and  self- 
sacrificing  love  in  the  realization  of  her  most  sanguine 
hopes.  She  had  never  dared  to  pray  for  such  bliss  as  had 
been  vouchsafed  her.  The  reader  knows  that  her  views  of 
prayer  were  not  in  the  direction  of  petitions  for  material 
blessings.  They  were  rather  the  register  of  her  own  ambi- 
tion to  do  good  deeds,  and  to  be  worthy  of  heavenly  recogni- 
tion, than  supplications  for  this  and  that,  and  blessings 
upon  her  worldly  enterprises.  Hoping  all  things  good, 
desiring  power  for  the  sake  of  others,  she  had  inherited  her 
unspoken  desires,  and  saw  her  way  to  be  God's  almoner. 

It  had  been  a  quiet  wedding,  at  the  church  where  Mil- 
dred as  a  girl  had  received  her  first  impulse  of  religious 

394 


DAVID'S  WIFE.  395 

faith  and  active  charity.  She  was  a  very  beaming  bride, 
despite  that  touch  of  seriousness  in  her  manner  and  attire 
that  had  appealed  to  the  worldly  mind  of  Mrs.  Charity 
Dene  as  not  incompatible  with  love.  Sally  Mumford  con- 
fessed that  she  had  no  idea  how  pretty  Mildred  really  was 
until  she  saw  her  dressed  for  the  wedding  that  made  Sally 
not  less  happy  than  the  bride,  herself.  David  had  recov- 
ered his  strength,  and  his  eye  was  almost  as  bright  as  his 
father's  ;  his  lips  continually  parting  to  laugh  or  say  some- 
thing expressive  of  his  joy.  He  had  come  to  love  Mildred 
with  a  full  heart,  and  to  feel  in  it  that  sense  of  rest,  security, 
and  serene  happiness  that  could  not  for  a  single  day  have 
gone  hand  in  hand  in  a  union  with  Elmira  Webb.  Alan 
Keith  was  at  the  wedding,  erect,  clean  shaven,  bony,  and 
wrinkled  as  ever,  but  with  the  deep-set  eyes,  prominent 
nose,  and  broad  wrinkled  forehead  that  characterized  his 
first  appearance  in  Hartley's  Row.  Instead  of  the  rough 
flannel  collar  that  usually  fell  about  his  throat,  tied  around 
with  a  silk  scarf  of  some  odd  color,  Sally  Mumford  had 
induced  him  to  put  on  a  white  linen  shirt  and  a  light  blue 
stock  with  a  gold  pin  in  it.  Nothing  would  induce  him, 
however,  to  change  his  gaberdinish  coat  and  his  curious 
vest,  but  the  buckles  in  his  shoes  had  been  polished,  and 
they  were  nearly  as  white  as  Mildred  Hope's  teeth,  which 
flashed  now  and  then  between  her  red  lips.  Sally  was 
dressed  in  a  gray  silk  gown  with  a  pretty  old-fashioned 
pelisse,  and  her  gray  hair  was  gathered  in  clusters  of  curls 
on  each  temple.  Mr.  Petherick  gave  the  bride  away,  and 
Mr.  Margrave,  the  trustee  under  Plympton's  will,  was  one 
of  the  witnesses.  Margrave  had  waited  at  St.  John's  until 
the  news  of  the  loss  of  the  Morning  Star  had  left  him  noth- 
ing else  to  do  but  return  home  ;  and  now  after  the  wedding 
Mr.  Alan  Keith  had  been  able  to  give  him  such  a  fee,  with 
contingent  promise  of  another,  as  induced  him  to  accom- 
pany the  party  on  the  wedding  tour.  The  trip  was  to  St. 


396  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

John's,  this  time  from  the  London  docks  and  by  steam. 
The  voyage  had  been  delightful,  and  they  had  reached  St. 
John's  with  the  first  warm  sunbeams  of  an  early  summer. 

They  had  rented  a  furnished  house  belonging  to  one  of 
the  principal  residents,  who  had  been  tempted  to  take  a 
holiday  in  Europe  on  the  strength  of  Mr.  Margrave's  pro- 
posals for  the  house,  which  the  astute  London  lawyer  had 
made  through  the  agent  with  whom  he  had  long  been  in 
communication  in  regard  to  David  Plympton's  bequests. 
These  testamentary  gifts  were  chiefly  in  favor  of  David 
Keith,  the  property  including  certain  wild  and  waste  terri- 
tory along  the  coast  of  Labrador,  and  extending  for  some 
distance  inland  above  Demon's  Rock.  Soon  after  the  party 
landed,  therefore,  Mildred  found  herself  mistress  of  what 
was  considered  a  very  fine  house  for  St.  John's,  with  her 
father-in-law,  Alan  Keith,  Sally  Mumford,  and  Mr.  Mar- 
grave as  visitors.  She  proved  quite  equal  in  every  way  to 
her  new  duties,  and  Sally  never  tired  of  praising  her,  and 
congratulating  David  on  his  clever  and  pretty  wife.  The 
only  anxious  times  the  two  women  experienced  were  during 
the  weeks  when  David  and  Alan  were  away  on  their  excur- 
sions to  Wilderness  Creek.  There  was  no  real  cause  for 
anxiety,  and  their  fears  were  brief  ;  they  only  belonged  to 
the  hours  or  days  when  the  voyagers  did  not  return  very 
close  to  the  times  appointed  ;  but  David  and  Alan  could 
not  count  upon  the  moment  they  might  sail  through  the 
natural  gateway  of  St.  John's,  with  their  mysterious  cargoes. 
Everything  had  been  favorable  to  the  Labrador  treasure  col- 
lectors. Mr.  Margrave  proved  himself  a  valuable  ally  in 
the  disposal  of  the  valuables.  He  made  a  journey  to  New 
York  with  bullion  and  precious  stones,  and  paid  a  very  large 
sum  to  David  Keith's  account  through  New  York  into  the 
Bank  of  England,  besides  making  deposits  in  David's  name 
for  which  he  brought  back  scrip  in  three  of  the  leading 
banks  of  the  United  States. 


DAVID'S  WIFE.  397 

The  deposit  which  Alan  made  in  the  friendly  oasis  above 
Demon's  Rock,  he  paid  without  fear  or  reservation  into  the 
Bank  of  St.  John's.  Whatever  he  might  feel  as  to  certain 
of  the  treasures  of  Wilderness  Creek,  at  least  the  horde  he 
had  buried  away  in  a  secret  corner  only  known  to  himself, 
was  without  taint.  It  consisted  of  the  fund  made  over  to 
him  by  his  father-in-law,  and  in  part  of  his  own  hard- 
earned  savings,  when  it  had  been  settled  that  he  and 
Preedie  should  go  to  Salem  or  Boston  and  buy  a  ship  to 
fight  against  the  buccaneering  Ristack.  The  bank  manager 
was  only  too  glad  to  welcome  to  St.  John's  the  heirs  of 
David  Plympton,  father  and  son,  and  Alan  announced  his 
own  and  his  son's  intention  of  promoting  enterprises,  both 
commercial  and  charitable,  bearing  upon  the  welfare  of  the 
colony.  The  bright-eyed  old  man  even  spoke  of  a  railroad 
from  St.  John's  to  the  two  nearest  neighboring  settlements, 
and  made  various  other  wild  suggestions  that  were  quite  in 
keeping  with  his  strange  foreign  appearance.  The  first 
contract  upon  which  he  entered  was  preliminary  to  the 
erection  of  the  fine  memorials  which  now  mark  the  locality 
of  the  last  resting  places,  firstly,  of  Hannah  Keith  ;  and, 
secondly,  of  the  Newfoundland  dog,  Sampson.  The  broken 
column,  with  its  guardian  angel,  that  marks  the  grave  of  the 
belle  of  the  vanished  Heart's  Delight,  and  the  monolith,  with 
its  sculptured  head  of  a  dog,  that  stands  in  the  shadow  of  a 
group  of  tamaracks  and  other  forest  trees,  are  features  of 
Back  Bay  Valley  sacred  to  memories  that  already  belong  to 
tradition  and  romance. 

The  new  Heart's  Content  interested  Alan  Keith  only  in 
a  negative  way.  It  did  not  even  suggest  the  village  of 
Heart's  Delight,  upon  the  ashes  of  which  it  was  built. 
There  was  no  trace  of  the  Great  House.  The  fish  flakes 
were  all  new.  The  stakes,  up  against  which  the  well- 
dressed  bodies  of  Ristack  and  Ruddock  had  floated,  grim 
tributes  to  the  rough  justice  of  a  great  revenge,  had  disap- 


398  UNDER   THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

peared.  The  houses  were  mostly  of  brick  and  stone.  The 
quay  was  a  firm  and  solid  piece  of  workmanship.  There 
were  gardens,  but  the  arbor  of  the  Great  House  had  been 
burnt  up  in  the  general  conflagration  and  clearing  which 
had  been  undertaken  under  the  authority  of  the  Great  Seal 
of  England.  All  was  changed,  indeed.  The  inhabitants 
had  little  or  no  record  of  the  past.  The  people  whom 
Alan  had  known  were  mostly  dispersed.  Even  to  this 
day  Heart's  Content  has  little  or  no  record  of  the  village 
upon  the  ashes  of  which  it  was  built.  The  oldest  inhabit- 
ant had  his  stories  of  the  days  of  the  fishing  admirals  and 
of  the  war  with  America,  but  he  was  garrulous,  often  for- 
got names  and  dates,  and  so  varied  his  stories  that  they  had 
come  to  be  regarded  as  fables.  The  grave  in  Back  Bay 
Valley,  and  the  legend  of  the  dog,  cut  into  the  tamarack, 
had  held  their  place  in  such  romance  as  the  district  pro- 
vided, and  the  valley  had  become  a  picnic  ground,  once  in  a 
way  during  autumn  days  when  the  fishing  was  over,  for 
family  parties,  and  the  school,  which  was  the  principal 
institution  of  the  new  town.  Alan  had  felt  a  deep  sense  of 
gratitude  to  Heart's  Content  on  this  account,  and  he  gave 
practical  expression  to  it  in  establishing  the  foundation  of 
the  schools  and  church  beyond  the  possibility  of  future 
want. 

If  Heart's  Content  disappointed  Alan  by  its  absence  of 
familiar  landmarks,  it  was,  nevertheless,  the  kind  of  fishing 
village  and  harbor  that  he  and  Plympton  had  thought  of 
as  possible  at  some  future  day.  Plympton,  as  we  all  know, 
was  far  less  sanguine  than  Alan,  who  was  imbued  with  a 
prophetic  sense  of  the  destiny  of  the  oldest  British  colony. 
Ungrateful  stepmother  as  the  old  country  undoubtedly 
was,  Alan,  with  the  keen-sighted  prevision  of  a  shrewd  and 
enterprising  Scotchman,  gauged  the  destiny  of  a  territory 
that  was  bound  to  pass  through  the  darkness  in  which  he 
found  it  into  the  light  of  commercial  prosperity,  if  not 


DAVID'S  WIFE.  399 

imperial  distinction.  Alan's  hopes  and  prophecies  have 
been  fulfilled,  but  the  height  to  which  his  forecast  pointed 
discloses  other  heights  which  have  to  be  climbed  in  the 
confirmation  of  Newfoundland's  rights  and  privileges,  and 
in  fulfillment  of  the  duty  the  mother  country  still  owes 
to  her  oldest  and  nearest  colony. 

In  their  operations  at  Wilderness  Creek,  David  and  Alan 
had  concluded  that  it  would  be  well  to  concentrate  their 
attention  upon  the  cemetery,  and  leave  the  upper  regions 
of  the  territory  for  their  concluding  labors.  Not  a  soul 
appeared  in  the  region  of  Nasquappe  to  disturb  them.  A 
couple  of  eagles  evidently  had  their  home  on  a  distant  cliff 
seaward.  They  would  sail  now  and  then  in  a  wide  circle 
over  the  harbor  and  disappear  behind  the  lower  ranges  of 
the  hills ;  at  night  mysterious  wings  would  swish  by  them 
as  they  carried  their  last  loads  to  the  smack — bats  or  owls,  or 
both  ;  but  no  human  voice  was  heard,  no  human  footprint, 
except  their  own,  marked  the  sandy  shore. 

At  sea,  beyond  the  shelter  of  Wilderness  Creek  and  far 
away  from  the  dreaded  rocks  and  shoals,  fishing  ships  rode 
at  anchor  or  trailed  their  nets  ;  otherwise  the  two  men  were 
as  much  alone  and  safe  from  interruption  as  the  men  of  the 
St.  Dennis  had  been  with  their  added  protection  of  look- 
outs and  sentinels.  The  light  of  the  furnace  which  had, 
during  the  favorable  and  lovely  summer,  converted  thou- 
sands of  Spanish  and  English  dollars  and  guineas  into  solid 
ingots,  and  had  obliterated  the  identity  of  many  an  antique 
vessel,  cast  a  lurid  light  upon  the  foothills  of  the  entrance 
to  the  cavern,  and  startled  such  winged  life  as  had  been 
hitherto  unaccustomed  to  any  of  the  disturbing  evidences 
of  man's  ingenuity.  David  and  Alan  labored  away  with 
steady  persistence.  They  had  soon  become  accustomed 
to  their  wealth.  David  had  long  ceased  to  utter  excla- 
mations over  every  new  find  ;  but  at  night,  on  board  the 
smack  before  turning  in,  father  and  son  had  built  all  kinds 


400  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

of  castles  in  the  air — castles  that  even  their  cargo's  treasures 
were  not  sufficient  to  encompass  ;  and  now  and  then  David 
would  draw  from  his  father  fresh  details  of  his  adventures, 
and  the  father  from  David  hitherto  unrelated  incidents  of 
his  first  voyage  and  wreck.  Narratives  of  his  early  days  in 
Venice  would  crop  up  in  all  Alan's  stories  ;  they  came  as  his 
chief  relief  to  the  horrors  of  his  slavery  and  imprisonment. 
Then  he  would  go  back  to  Heart's  Delight,  and  picture  to 
David  the  winter  nights  with  his  grandfather  and  his  mother 
and  Father  Lavello  in  the  family  circle.  Considering  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place  in  the  colony,  the  settled 
peace  at  home,  the  countries  covered  in  his  father's  record, 
his  own  boyhood,  and  the  remote  times  that  Sally  Mumford 
had  spoken  of,  the  similes  connected  with  the  "  Wandering 
Jew,"  which  Alan  used  now  and  then,  seemed  quite  appro- 
priate, and  David  found  himself  searching  his  memory  for 
other  parallels  to  his  father's  strange  and  long  career. 
Alan  told  his  son  that,  when  he  reached  his  age,  he  would 
find  that  looking  back  over  half  a  century  was  no  more 
than  the  yesterday  of  youthful  retrospection.  What  made 
the  time  appear  a  little  longer  than  time  was  to  persons 
who  remained  in  one  spot  all  their  lives,  were  the  many 
landmarks  of  varied  events  in  different  places  ;  but  even 
these  at  the  last  came  very  close  together,  and  life  after  all 
was  just  no  more  and  no  less  than  Job  described  it,  "We 
are  but  of  yesterday,  and  know  nothing,  because  our  days 
upon  earth  are  a  shadow." 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

A    HAPPY    FAMILY. 

WHEN  the  Nautilus  had  made  her  last  voyage,  and  Alan 
and  David  had  shoveled  back  the  sand  and  re-erected  the 
stones  above  the  emptied  treasure  casks,  Alan  proposed  that 
they  should  charter  a  vessel  of  more  importance,  and  fitted 
for  comfort,  to  make  a  pleasant  coasting  trip  to  Wilderness 
Creek,  carrying  sailors  and  carpenters,  and  certain  passen- 
gers, with  a  view  to  a  few  weeks'  sojourn  at  the  Berry 
Garden,  as  he  called  the  green  spot  above  Demon's  Rock. 
David  fell  in  with  the  idea,  and  in  the  waning  days  of 
summer  they  set  about  carrying  it  out.  First  the  treasure 
had  to  be  secured,  and  as  far  as  possible  invested.  This  was 
done  with  the  aid  of  Mr.  Margrave,  and  such  remainder  as 
the  Keiths  desired  to  keep  intact  was  packed,  some  of  it 
in  strong  boxes  and  deposited  in  the  bank,  other  stores 
being  built  into  the  cellars  of  the  house  they  had  rented, 
and  which  during  their  absence  were  placed  in  charge  of 
the  police,  now  properly  organized  and  a  responsible  body, 
altogether  different  from  the  unofficial  constabulary  that 
did  volunteer  service  when  Alan  Keith  first  knew  the 
capital  of  the  colony.  David  Plympton,  besides  his  terri- 
torial rights  to  certain  tracts  of  lands  at  Heart's  Content, 
had  left  certain  properties  both  at  Halifax  and  St.  John's, 
and  when  Alan  and  his  party  sailed  on  their  cruise  for 
Labrador,  it  was  made  known  in  a  general  way  that  they 
were  going  to  survey  the  lands  that  Plympton  had  pur- 
chased shortly  before  his  death.  Mysterious  hints  were 
thrown  out  that  valuable  minerals  had  been  discovered 
there,  accounting  for  Plympton's  investment,  which,  to  all 


4° 2  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

that  had  been  made  acquainted  with  it,  was  regarded  as 
nothing  short  of  a  mad  waste  of  money. 

There  was  a  handsome  vessel  lying  at  St.  John's  which 
exactly  fitted  Alan's  requirements.  He  chartered  it  for  the 
trip  with  its  captain  and  crew.  To  these  he  added  several 
local  carpenters  and  a  builder.  By  way  of  cargo  they  took 
in  an  ample  store  of  provisions,  with  a  few  articles  of  fur- 
niture, a  store  of  bedding  and  cushions,  and  other  neces- 
saries for  an  encampment.  The  passengers  were  Alan 
Keith,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  David  Keith,  and  Sally  Mumford. 
The  London  lawyer  could  not  spare  the  time  for  holiday- 
making.  He  had  many  details  of  business  to  complete  in 
connection  with  the  Keith  fortunes,  and,  moreover,  he  felt 
that  it  was  best  for  him  to  remain  at  the  beck  and  call  of 
the  local  bankers  and  solicitors,  who  found  themselves 
unusually  busy  with  investments,  transfers  of  stocks,  ship- 
ments of  bullion,  and  so  on,  not  to  mention  the  clearing  up 
of  the  bequests  of  the  late  David  Plympton. 

When  the  St.  John's  captain  found  himself  off  the  point 
where  Alan  desired  him  to  shape  his  course  for  Wilderness 
Creek,  the  experienced  old  sailor  flatly  refused  to  give  the 
necessary  orders.  He  was  not  going  to  risk  his  ship,  let 
alone  the  lives  she  carried,  on  the  word  of  any  man.  He 
had  his  sailing  chart.  He  knew  the  coast.  Alan  Keith  had 
his  chart  also,  and  he  knew  the  coast  far  better,  he  claimed> 
than  the  St.  John's  captain.  Alan's  chart  was  an  example 
of  a  most  complete  survey,  with  every  rock  and  channel 
clearly  marked,  not  to  mention  soundings  and  points  of 
observation  that  went  into  almost  unnecessary  details.  The 
captain  examined  the  nautical  map  with  interest  and  curi- 
osity. He  admitted  that  there  were  harbors  none  the  less 
safe  because  they  were  comparatively  unknown  ;  others 
that  as  yet  had  no  places  in  recognized  charts ;  he  did  not 
deny  that  there  had  been  instances  of  ships  being  literally 
blown  into  sheltering  waters  where  they  only  expected 


A  HAPPY  FAMILY.  403 

destruction,  and  from  the  very  rocks  that  had  eventually 
proved  their  chief  protection  ;  indeed,  he  challenged  none 
of  Alan's  statements  except  that  of  a  clean,  safe  channel 
lying  inside  the  jagged  rocks  at  the  very  point  upon  which 
Alan  desired  him  to  steer.  After  a  time  the  captain  found 
himself  leaning  his  back  upon  an  argument  that  Alan  soon 
found  means  of  practically  combating.  The  St.  John's 
man  said  his  crew  would  mutiny  if  he  headed  the  ship  for 
what  must  to  them  seem  certain  destruction,  even  in  the  finest 
weather ;  one  touch  of  such  teeth  as  those  that  showed 
black  and  sharp  in  the  blue  would  be  enough  to  cut  a  hole 
in  the  stoutest  ship,  or  hold  her  tight  and  fast  until  she 
broke  up.  Finally,  however,  this  last  objection  was  over- 
come by  the  lowering  of  a  boat,  and  David  and  Alan  taking 
the  oars,  and  having  with  them  the  mate  and  one  of  the 
oldest  hands  among  the  crew.  The  sea  was  like  a  mill- 
pond,  except  where  it  climbed  about  the  rocks  that  seemed 
to  snap  and  bite  at  the  waves  in  the  mouth  of  the  channel. 
Alan  proposed  to  steer.  Two  hours  were  occupied  with 
this  experimental  trip.  The  mate's  report,  backed  by  the 
enthusiastic  indorsement  of  the  old  sailor,  was  so  emphatic 
in  Alan's  favor  that  the  ship  was  headed  for  the  creek  ; 
and  with  a  summer  breeze  from  the  sea,  not  more  than 
enough  to  carry  her  behind  the  rocks  and  into  deep  water, 
the  St.  John's  captain  ran  his  vessel  into  the  lovely  harbor, 
amid  exclamations  of  surprise,  and  such  expressions  of 
wonder  as  one  might  have  imagined  bursting  from  the 
pioneer  crews  of  Columbus  and  Cabot  in  presence  of  some 
of  their  earliest  discoveries. 

Before  sundown  the  cargo  was  unloaded,  and  portions  of 
it  dragged  through  the  cave  and  hauled  upon  the  table- 
land above  the  rock.  Early  the  next  morning  the  car- 
penters began  to  transform  the  ruined  huts  and  sheds  of 
the  dead  and  gone  crew  of  the  St.  Dennis  into  habitable 
shelters.  Within  thirty-six  hours  the  little  settlement  was 


4°4  UNDER  THE  GREA  T  SEAL. 

complete.  The  sailors  and  workmen  remained  on  board 
ship.  Alan  and  the  rest,  with  a  couple  of  servants,  took  up 
their  quarters  in  and  around  the  Berry  Garden.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  David  Keith  were  quite  luxuriously  accommodated. 
Sally  Mumford  was  installed  head  housekeeper,  and  she 
and  her  maids  had  a  little  wooden  house  all  to  themselves. 
Alan  had  his  hammock  slung  in  a  cabin  at  the  western  cor- 
ner of  the  garden,  dominating  the  valley,  and  also  having  a 
broad  view  of  the  sea  and  bits  of  the  rocky  coast.  The 
perfume  of  land  flowers  all  the  time  mingled  with  the  smell 
of  ocean  weed  that  came  up  with  whiffs  of  pungent  ozone. 
The  plants,  which  would  bear  their  various  fruits  in  the 
autumn,  were  in  full  bloom  in  the  Berry  Garden.  Swallows, 
that  had  built  their  nests  on  the  face  of  Demon's  Rock,  filled 
the  sunny  air  with  their  brisk  cries.  In  the  early  mornings 
singing  birds,  with  fewer  notes,  but  gayer  feathers  than  the 
songsters  of  England,  made  their  humble  music  in  the 
grove  of  larch  and  spruce  and  birch  that  dipped  down  into 
the  valley  beyond.  Butterflies  winged  their  lazy  flight  from 
flower  to  flower  and  from  bush  to  bush.  The  drowsy  hum 
of  bees  mingled  with  the  tiny  plaints  and  curious  signal- 
ings of  still  smaller  things.  Nature  was  just  as  busy  in 
every  direction  as  if  all  the  civilized  world  had  been  looking 
on.  It  is  wonderful  to  think  what  myriads  of  communities 
of  beings,  perfect  of  their  kind,  endowed  with  beauties 
beyond  all  the  arts  of  man,  are  living  within  the  laws  of 
nature  and  by  the  Divine  fiat  in  every  part  of  the  globe, 
utterly  irrespective  of  human  knowledge  and  beyond  all 
human  ken.  In  this  vast  animal  kingdom,  philosophers  tell 
us,  the  fittest  survive  the  universal  conflict  for  existence. 
It  must  be  a  study  of  vast  importance  and  interest  to  con- 
sider the  survival  of  the  fittest  in  families  and  nations. 
Whether  they  be  "  the  fittest,"  or  otherwise,  the  survivors 
of  the  wrack  and  blight  of  a  hard  world  who  claim  the 
reader's  undivided  attention,  at  the  conclusion  of  these  faith- 


A  HAPPY  FAMILY.  405 

ful  records,  are  notable  examples  of  mixed  fortunes,  which 
they  have  borne  according  to  their  lights  and  natural  im- 
pulses. It  has  come  to  the  hour  when  we  have  to  say  good- 
by  to  them.  It  is  always  more  or  less  sad  to  say  good-by. 
In  this  case  one  has  the  consolation  of  taking  leave  when 
the  glass  of  good  fortune  is  at "  set  fair  "  in  the  lives  of  the 
men  and  women  whom  we  love.  I  hope  I  may  say  "  we  " 
in  this  connection,  for  kthen  I  shall  not  be  alone  in  my 
reluctance  to  turn  away  from  the  Berry  Garden  of  Labrador 
on  this  closing  picture  of  a  happy  holiday. 

They  are  sitting  in  the  doorway  of  Alan  Keith's  log 
cabin,  the  four  persons  who  bring  this  history  to  an  end. 
It  is  evening.  The  sun  has  gone  down.  The  sea  is  begin- 
ning to  reflect  a  few  stars  and  the  image  of  the  young 
moon.  Alan  Keith  is  smoking  his  long  pipe.  Sally  Mum- 
ford  is  coaxing  from  her  knitting  needles  the  consolation 
of  a  more  feminine  habit.  Alan  does  not  taste  the  tobacco. 
Sally  only  hears  the  chatter  of  her  needles.  They  are  both 
thinking  of  the  past,  while  finding  their  happiness  in  the 
present ;  for  David  is  their  happiness,  David  and  the  sweet 
wife  who  is  worthy  to  be  named  while  they  are  thinking  of 
his  mother.  Mildred  and  David  have  arisen  from  their 
low  seats,  to  watch  the  last  beams  of  the  sun  give  way  to 
the  silvery  light  of  the  crescent  moon,  which  now  looks  like 
a  brooch  on  the  bosom  of  the  sea.  They  are  all  touched 
by  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  there  is  just  the  merest 
suggestion  of  a  pang  in  the  cry  of  the  plover  that  comes 
up  from  the  valley.  They  have  already  heard  its  warning 
cry.  They  know  the  summer  is  over.  Thoughts  unbidden, 
and  reflections  that  come  of  themselves,  belong  to  moments 
such  as  these.  David  finds  himself  hoping  that  when  the 
last  change  of  all  comes  to  his  father  and  the  faithful 
woman  who  sits  with  her  knitting  on  her  knee  and  her 
thoughts  far  away,  it  will  be  like  the  summer  that  gradu- 
ally fades  into  autumn,  and  goes  out  with  a  gentle  sigh 


406  UNDER  THE  GREAT  SEAL. 

that  you  do  not  know  for  one  or  the  other,  summer  or 
autumn. 

Presently  there  rises  up  in  the  Berry  Garden  a  figure 
that  looks  like  an  antique  warrior,  the  victorious  counter- 
part of  that  torn  and  bleeding  waif  of  the  sea  who  gathered 
himself  up  from  the  jagged  rocks  of  the  cruel  Bahamas  and 
faced  the  lances  of  the  morning  sun. 

"  Many  a  time  I've  stood  and  looked  across  the  waters 
and  seen  visions,"  said  Alan.  "  Some  have  come  true, 
some  hae  mocked  me  i'  the  storm.  I  wonder  what  ye  may 
see,  David,  my  son,  as  ye  look  out  now  wi'  your  wife  by  your 
side  and  God's  immortal  stars  above  ye,  and  that  wonderfu' 
wee  bit  moon  down  yonder,  sae  clear  and  bright  that  the 
sea  might  be  the  heavens,  and  the  heavens  the  sea  ?" 

Alan  put  his  arm  about  David's  shoulders  as  he  spoke, 
and  David  drew  Mildred  still  closer  to  his  side. 

"  May  I  answer  for  David  ?"  the  young  and  happy  wife 
asked,  leaning  her  head  against  David's  strong  arm. 

"  Aye,  my  lassie,  what  do  you  see  wi'  your  gentle 
spiritual  eyes  ?" 

"  I  see  a  great  hospital  with  soft-voiced  nurses  flitting 
from  bed  to  bed  ;  I  see  gentle  almoners  visiting  the  father- 
less and  the  widow;  I  see  orphan  waifs  of  the  street 
gathered  into  clean  and  homely  shelters,  and  fed,  and 
taught  to  read  and  pray  ;  I  hear  the  voices  of  a  happy 
choir  singing  in  a  new  church  at  Heart's  Content ;  I  see 
ships  of  God  going  out  into  the  dark  waters  to  take  com- 
fort for  soul  and  body  to  the  fishermen  of  the  North  Sea 
and  their  brethren  of  Newfoundland  ;  I  see  unsuspected 
misery  discovered  by  sympathetic  search  and  restored  to 
health  and  work  ;  I  see  a  sad  world  made  brighter,  and  I 
hear  thousands  blessing  the  name  of  Alan  Keith." 

"  My  child,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  this  may  be  so  it  shall 
stand  as  an  everlasting  assurance  of  the  unbounded  mercy 
of  God  to  a  wicked  but  penitent  sinner." 


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